Jak IV:: Penalties of War
by Lizzy Rebel
Summary: [sequel to Secret Origins] Part Four: Loss, death, and devastation are the price that Jak must pay to save the future [complete]
1. Part One:: United They Stand

**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Jak II: Renegade in anyway, shape or form. I do own the Jak III and Jak IV series. Please do not take them or copy them without my permission._

A/N: Yes, I know. I promised Jak IV weeks ago… hey caught me a break. My sister bought me Jak 3 on the day I was going to post Act I and that game took up all of my attention. After that I was a little too depressed and up set with Naughty Dog to really do anything serious with Jak IV: Penalties of War. But Naughty Dog and I have made our peace together and I'm ready to update! :D

Alright to anyone who is new to my series: this is based on Jak II and is in no way related to that disappointing, but all together fun, Jak 3. Notice the Roman Numerals? That's how you tell the difference! I would suggest reading Jak III: Secret Origins before trying to tackle this one since it is a direct sequel, but for those of you who are lazy (like me) I'll point out a few facts that you MUST know to understand the series. It'll also be a refresher to the Jak III veterans (I feel special 'cause I have veterans).

**One**: Keira is Sig's biological daughter and they are both from the Holy City out in the desert

**Two**: Keira defeated an evil Chaos goddess, Eris, with the help of Jak

**Three**: Keira is actually a descendent of the Goddess, most powerful of all the immortals

**Four**: Daxter turned human/elf in Jak III: Secret Origins

**Five**: Torn married Ashlin, Ashlin was pregnant, Jak married Keira, Tess married Daxter

**Six**: A mysterious voice keeps reminding Jak of a debt he has not paid

**Seven**: Sage-Harmona (an ancient city) and the people killed Eris's evil are being reborn by the power of the Goddess

And that's all you really need to know. Of course, there are also some important facts I didn't list that might make the story clearer to you, but for those you'll have to ready Jak III: Secret Origins. And if you do, mind posting a review? I'm a review junkie.

PS: This is a special note to Specter Von Baron. E-mail me! I lost your address and I have some uses for your characters you might like. Of course, I need your permission and I think you ought to know what I plan to do with them, but I can't say it here. It'll give away the story!

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Jak IV: Penalties of War

**Part One: We Bury the Dead Alive**

**Act I: United They Stand **

"Weird…" he observed, watching as the beasts scurried away from him. They hadn't even put up a fight. There had been no sign of retaliation. They had simply seen him, seen his gun, and headed for the hills.

"Don't tell me you're complaining," a gruff voice returned and he turned to face the redhead on his side.

Blue eyes narrowed. "No. It just isn't like them. One would think they would attack us on sight. It smells funny…"

"Yeah well, I didn't put you in charge of this operation for your sense of smell, Jak," the redhead snapped back. "In fact, I'm not sure why I even put you in charge. A momentary flaw in my thinking. Won't happen again."

Jak Mar snorted humorlessly. "Oh shut up, Torn. You know you need me to handle the Wastelanders. Sig's retired now. Who else are they going to listen to? They don't give a damn about your Krimzon Guard."

"Bastard," Torn, the Krimzon Guard commander, shot back but it was said in an almost friendly manner. Almost. "You've grown too arrogant for your own good, Jak. If you're not careful you're gonna wake up with Metal Head teeth in your back."

"If they keep running like this I won't have to worry about it for too much longer," Jak pointed out, turning his blue gaze upon the sands. The black hides of the Metal Heads rushed towards the sun, deeper into the desert. They had a nest there, Jak was sure, but since they had yet to try anything against Heaven City trying to find it would waste too much time, soldiers, and money. The people of the city weren't welling to pay for Torn's exploits anymore. Now they just wanted to have peace.

Jak couldn't blame them. On a good day he felt like turning to the Krimzon Guard commander and saying good luck. He could stay in the Racing Sector of the city then. With the woman he loved.

But he had made a promise to Torn, a promise to be to the commander of the Wastelanders. He couldn't go back on it. He would command the Wastelanders, under Torn's leadership, until he was old enough to retire.

As Jak mused on this, Torn turned his head and looked over at the Wastelanders that had accompanied them on their latest mission to purge the Metal Heads from their lands. They were a rough bunch, the Wastelanders. But since they had been the only group willing to take the journey outside the protective walls of Heaven City for the longest time it came as no surprise they were rough and battle worn.

They looked up to Jak, thankfully. If they hadn't then Torn didn't know how he would have recruited them. Sig wasn't much help since he had retired from his former job as a top Wastelander. This rowdy group of men had no respect for Torn or the Krimzon Guard and they could barely muster enough politeness for Ashlin, governor of Haven City. If it wasn't for Jak these Wastelanders might have very well tried to usurp Ashlin from her thrown. Hell, maybe they'd all still be under Praxis's iron fist if Jak hadn't walked into their life, angry and out for revenge.

Torn smirked at the notion, his rough face becoming more handsome with every lift of his lips. It still amazed him, to this day, that Jak had such an effect on the city. There was nothing amazing about him—average size, average strength, average intelligence—but there was just something about the blonde man that had you routing for the underdog, had you believing that the damned near impossible was going to happen. Jak did that.

He was a symbol of freedom, whether Jak liked it or not.

"You're smiling, Torn," Jak pointed out without turning his head to look at him. "It's very out of character."

"This from the guy who went from pissed-off asshole to city savior to god-slayer to husband. I don't think you even have a character," Torn retorted and found himself pleased with the glare the former renegade sent him. Jak might have been willing to settle down but he could still be just as easily riled.

"I didn't give myself those names," he snapped.

"Of course you didn't. They wouldn't have mattered if you had," Torn agreed and slapped Jak hard on the back in a half-friendly half-painful manner.

_Three years_, Jak thought humorlessly, _three years since we've gotten back and those names haven't gone away._

He wanted them to. Oh, how he wanted them to! How he wanted them to forget who he was and what he did. He wanted to get on with his life, settle down and start a family. But people were always hounding him, beggaring with one thing or another. Even Torn. Torn had asked him to be the leader of the Wastelander branch of the Krimzon Guard. Torn had asked him because he was Jak defender of Haven City and he couldn't say no.

Jak gave a loud sigh that had Torn raising a questioning eyebrow at him. The younger man shrugged as an answer. "Just tired. We've been at this for about twelve hours now."

"What's a matter, Jak? Miss the action of the younger days? Before the golden peace?" The chuckle Torn gave suggested that, on some level, he did too. "It's better this way, you know. It's a better world for our children."

"Speak for yourself. I don't have any children, Torn," Jak snapped. That was, after all, a tender subject that Torn had learn two years earlier to steer away from.

"Well, hell, who's fault is that? You've been married to Keira for, what, two and a half years? Is it my fault you won't start a family with her?" Normally Torn would've backed down moments before but he was tired off seeing Jak yearning for a family, but never daring to start one.

"If Keira and I did start a family, Torn, then I would never be there for the baby. I'd always be busy with the Wastelanders," Jak protested.

"Take your head out of your ass, Jak," Torn ordered. "The city doesn't need you that much. Take a few years' vacation, put one of the Wastelanders in charge, and start on that damn family. Your whining is really annoying me."

"I. Do. Not. Whine." Glaring at him, Jak jerked his head to one side, grinding his jaw muscles in anger. No one told Jak he whined, no one.

"Jak, Haven doesn't need a defender anymore. We can defend ourselves and besides we have diplomatic ties with the Holy City now. If something happens it won't be just up to you to save us all. Things change, Jak." Torn waved his hand in the air as if the whole conversation was annoying him.

"I guess I do need a vacation…" Jak reasoned with himself, the beginning of a smile working its way across his lips.

"I need the vacation, damnit! A vacation from you. You are the most annoying man I have ever met." Torn rubbed his temples in exasperation.

"I would think this _was_ vacation for you. Isn't Ryu a toddler? I heard somewhere that it was hardest part of raising a child." Jak grinned over at his somewhat friend.

Torn gave a mock shudder. Years ago this friendly joking would have been beyond him, but with peace came a tenderness the gruff former rebellion leader had never shown before. "God, I never thought we'd make it out of the terrible twos. Ryu just wouldn't stop _crying_. I never cried like that."

Jak chuckled for he too had learned to release the hard-faced coldness of his former self. Like Torn he had begun to open up, tenderized in this time of peace. Finally the warrior was enjoying life.

Ryutaro, the heir to Haven City's throne, had the look of Torn, but a softness neither his mother nor father possessed. Most people—or those who were old enough to remember—chalked it up to Ashlin's grandmother, who had been known as the softest in the Praxis line. Recently turned three Ryu was already talking and walking, scampering after his mother and wanting nothing to do with Metal Heads. They gave him nightmares, he had said quite calmly when Torn had asked the little boy if he thought he would like to be in the Krimzon Guard.

_"I don' thin' I would lik it 'ery much, Daddy,"_ little Ryu had said with a quite confident look, trying his best to pronounce the words so his father would understand him. Torn had sighed and looked disappointed.

Jak didn't say it out loud, but he had the feeling Torn would end up being very disappointed in Ryu in terms of his work ethics. Jak could tell the little boy was the kind of person who was serene, calm and easy-going. When he looked into the boy's green eyes—the only facial trait from Ashlin he had received—he had seen a smirk and a sense of wonder that was nothing like his father's strict military mind.

Ryu was going to be a visionary, a softie. And in times of peace they were going to need that soft touch Ryu carried with him. Jak was just barely coming to terms with the fact that the fighting that had shaped him into the man he was today was obsolete. Sometimes it was more then he could bear, to think he was going to be useless in the coming years. But all he had to do was look into Ryu's innocent eyes and know this was how it was supposed to be.

That boy was the first of a new generation. A generation that wouldn't have to fight or know the horrors of war. Ryutaro would be the poet, the writer, the boy who was more concerned with his zoomer rather than where he was going to get his next meal. It was obvious to the plan eye that while Ryu would reach for the stars he would do it in his own way, a way that differed completely from his father's.

Since Jak guessed Torn was still dealing with that he didn't voice his thoughts.

"I'm glad I'm not in Daxter and Tess's place," Torn said on an afterthought. "I mean a hyper two-year old and another on the way. Can you imagine? I can barely handle Ryu and he's an easy going kid. I couldn't imagine spending more then an hour with Lee."

Lee, the first and only son of Daxter and Tess—so far—was as energetic as they came. Where Ryu was laid back and easy-going Lee was always doing something. Whether it was running around the Naughty Ottsel, causing havoc, or trying to jump into the port Lee always had his parents on their toes. And now Tess was expecting another child in six more months.

"Tess and Daxter have enough energy to fill six people," Jak answered. "Some people were meant for big families and those two are definitely one of them."

"And what about you, Jak? You're one of those people who don't have families?"

Jak gave his friend a small smile and walked back towards the walls of Haven City. "We'll see."

--&--

"I think you should hit him…" the statement was delivered with such confidence and assurance that anyone with a sane mind and a sure brain would not have thought to question it.

However, Keira Hagai-Mar—though of a sane mind and a sure brain—was currently lost in thought and the voice of her friend, Tess, was lost on her ears. "Hmm…?"

Tess, a pretty blonde bombshell, took a deep drink of her soda, laden with caffeine—something she had began to worship and crave—and sent Keira an annoyed look. "Jak. Hit. Him."

Keira blinked at her in confusion, the dark green of her eyes wide. "And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?"

"Knock some common sense into him. Come on, Keira! You've been married for over two years and not a bundle of joy in sight!" Tess slapped her glass against the hard wood of the table they sat at. It was in the back of the bar, safely tucked away in the corner. It was an easy escape for Tess whenever the crowds at the Naughty Ottsel became too much for her to handle.

In her lap a little boy with bright blonde hair and wide brown eyes squirmed. "Momma, want down!" he cried in displeasure, swinging his chubby toddler arms. He was thin and his chubby cheeks were flushed with frustration at his predicament. The way his face clenched reminded Keira of Daxter whenever he was particularly annoyed with Jak, but his nose crinkled like Tess's.

"Hush, Lee. You slipped the bottles all over the back and now you have to sit out your punishment." When the child reached out for her drink in subtle protest to the treatment, Tess held it at an arm length. "No! No caffeine for you. I can barely handle you now, _imagine_ you on caffeine."

Lee opened his mouth, his eyes watered, and screeched.

Even as Tess pressed her forehead against the wooden table, Keira chuckled and rubbed at a sore spot on her chest. Oh, how she wanted this! How she wanted to have to deal with an energetic child with blonde hair and green eyes.

That was her problem. She was a woman, after all, and so she yearned for children. Little things to cuddle and raise and love. But Jak Mar, her husband of two and a half years, had not spoken a word of children. She knew he was busy with setting up the Wastelander Branch of the Krimzon Guard and his constant hounding by the people of the city, but still she yearned for a family.

The blonde raised her head from the table and caught Keira's wistful look. "You should just tell him you want kids."

Sighing, the woman in question looked away. "I can't. Jak's so… so busy. With Torn and the Krimzon Guard and the Wastelanders. How can I even think about asking for children when he's got so much on his plate already?"

"Fine. But you know your biological clock _is_ ticking," Tess pointed out and gritted her teeth in pain when Lee slapped his particularly bony butt against her knee. "Damnit!"

Lee's eyes widened and he stared up at his mother. "Bad wooooooooord!" he whispered in horror.

"Yes, Mommy did say a bad word, didn't she?" Without hesitation Keira reached over and dragged the little boy into lap. Lee squealed with delight and pressed a noisy kiss to her cheek. Lee was his father's son, after all, and he loved the attention that was bestowed upon him.

"I don't know what I'm thinking. I must be crazy," Tess said at length, eyeing her giggling son. "Lee's barely out of his terrible twos and I'm all ready to have another one. Honestly, Keira, why do I suffer? Daxter gets to go one business trips for the bar and I'm stuck here driving myself insane."

"Love?" Keira suggested cheekily.

"I loathe you," Tess said, but her voice was lost over the sudden coughing fit that overtook Lee.

"Baby?" Keira pressed Lee to her chest in worry and patted his back, harder then normal. Lee gagged for a few more minutes before calming down. However, coughing had taken much out of him and Lee's head dropped to Keira's shoulder.

"He's had the cough for a good three weeks now," Tess explained at Keira's worried look. "The doctors say it has to do with allergy season. Nothing to worry about. He'll be up on his feet in a few minutes."

Before another word could be spoken between the two another female voice, albeit much angrier then Keira or Tess's, shouted, "I told you, _leave me alone_! I was Krimzon Guard, too! I can handle it!"

"But, ma'am, Commander Torn said—"

"Does it look like I give a damn what the hell Torn said! It's an order, soldier!"

"Mommy!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

And Ashlin Praxis strode into the room, her little son hitched on her hip. Ryutaro could have been the miniature version of Torn save for softer features unhardened by war. But his eyes, easy-going and innocence, belonged to neither his mother nor his father, though they were the exact same shade as his mother's. But they were all his own.

The red dreadlocks of her hair swung against her shoulders as Ashlin moved over to Keira and Tess. Her pretty face, covered with Krimzon Guard markings, was set in an annoyed scowl that didn't really diminish her features so much as heighten them. Her hips swayed rhythmically as she strode, confidence in every stride. Ashlin Praxis came off as a woman used to getting what she wanted and someone who knew _how_ to get it.

Keira smiled at them both in greeting, "Ashlin. I thought you weren't going to make it." Lee gave a wild squeal of delight and pushed himself from Keira's arms. Ryu did the same thing with his mother.

As the two little boys began to play together, taking turns playing tag in the center of the bar, Ashlin took her seat beside her two friends. "I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Torn." She bit out the words with as much venom as she could muster, which due to her years as a Krimzon Guard office was _a lot_.

Tess laughed and shook her head in disbelief. "And I thought Daxter was hard to deal with."

Ashlin lowered her head to the hardwood of the table and groaned out loud. "He's so damned protective. We've been at peace for almost three years now but he still insists a Guard follows me _everywhere_. If he didn't get so jealous I think he'd have a Guard follow me into the goddamn bathroom."

"Well, Ashlin, you _are_ the official governor of Heaven City. Why shouldn't they want to protect you?" Keira questioned, smiling into the annoyed face of her friend. Before, this friendly exchange between the two women would have been inconceivable, but with the years came also a maturity.

The said governor stuck her tongue out at Keira. "Gee, you're _so_ helpful." Frowning she pressed Keira, "How is Jak?"

"Don't you know?" Tess pondered out loud, not really asking Ashlin in particular. "He comes to the palace all the time as Wastelander commander, doesn't he?"

"He's always doing something out in the wasteland with Torn and then he's always busy trying to get home to you," Ashlin paused to incline her head towards Keira, "so I never see him anymore."

"We're doing alright," Keira answered and didn't bother to try to hide the frown that suddenly marred her face. "But I want children, Ashlin, and I don't think Jak's… so willing…"

Ashlin snorted and didn't believe it for a second. "Just tell him, Keira. You're married so family's part of the package."

"Things are just changing so fast, you know? Before we always had worries. War, Metal Heads, then the Holy City, but now there's nothing. Where there were worries there's an emptiness and people are trying to fill it up as best they can," Keira admitted, wrapping her arms around her bare shoulders.

"I know. I've felt it, too. Our generation is one that does not know how to cope with peace. But for our children we're going to try. The scholars are trying to rewrite history to fit the Holy City's description of it, the politicians are trying to set up a new school policy, and the Krimzon Guard are trying to wipe out the remaining Metal Heads. As for me, I've got a family." Ashlin sighed and looked away. "Change is good, but it feels like its moving to fast for people like us, raised in war, to ever truly catch up."

"The world around us is changing, Ashlin. It's not just Haven City. Slowly, but steadily, the world is shifting back to the way it had been. During the Golden Age, when Sage-Harmona flourished." Keira leaned back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling. Light bounced off of them and settled into her eyes.

"Sage-Harmona is coming back," Tess added thoughtfully. "Like the Goddess said the world is being renewed. All those things we missed are coming back and we'll get a chance to create our golden age, without any interference from gods."

"And yet," Keira whispered softly to herself, not allowing her to friend to hear her. "I feel this is not the best thing."

"Sala and I decided to stop our negations for a treaty that would make us allies. She's taken it upon herself to help integrate the reborn people back into their villages and homes. She said that her whole focus has to be on that situation. Many people who died all those years ago are not so willing to believe that everything they have known has changed," Ashlin told Tess and Keira, though she only listened with one ear.

It was so true, Keira knew. She could fill the shifting world beneath her feet. They were standing on the brink of a new age, the Era of Humans. But what would happen to her generation? The generation who knew nothing but war and death? Were they to be left behind, obsolete?

And then there was Sage-Harmona. Though its returning was welcomed among the people of the Holy City, for they remembered the teachings of their origins, Keira was doubtful. Sage-Harmona had been the most powerful city of its time and now it would waken to a world were two cities were more advanced than it. How could it handle that? Would its rulers retaliate or simply be content to fade and let another hold the power? From what she knew of Sage-Harmona it seemed unlikely.

Keira's musings were cut off when Lee rushed up to his mother. "Momma! Sick!" And with that said he promptly threw up over Tess's tight shorts.

In one graceful movement, Tess gathered Lee into her arms as he began to cry in horror. "There, there, baby. Let's go get cleaned up! See you in a bit." She sent her friends a look before gliding across the wooden floor of the bar, rubbing gently at Lee's shaking back.

"Mommy! Thirsty!" Ryu gripped Ashlin's knee in part because he was thirsty and in part because he was scared for his friend.

"Alright, Ryu, let's go get you something to drink," Ashlin scooped Ryu up into her arms and strode across the bar towards the cabinets were the drinks were kept. Tess had replaced a shelf of it with juice for the children.

"I'm going to head over to the Race Garage, start on a new engine I'm designing. Tell Tess I said goodbye." Keira waved her farewell to Ashlin and exited the Naughty Ottsel.

There was a chill in the air and it wrapped itself around her skin. Keira shivered and wished she had worn a jacket like Jak had suggested, but she had been stubborn and refused. After all, she only lived about twenty minutes from the Naughty Ottsel. How cold could she get?

Very, apparently. The air spilling forth from her lips hovered at her nose, mocking her and her vain attempts to remain warm. Growling at it, and herself, Keira pressed onward.

She and Jak lived in a small house just outside of the Race Stadium. Next to the palace it was the most heavily guarded sector since many celebrities chose to make their home there, which was what Jak had become. They managed to gain some privacy, though not much, by being behind the Stadium.

Keira couldn't help but wish she and Jak weren't in the limelight so often. She knew that was part of the reason why Jak didn't want to have children. How could they when being constantly pressed into the spotlight? The press would have a field day if they found out that the child of the city's greatest hero was going to born. They were already pestering both Jak and Keira about possible children.

But she yearned for children. The material part of her had become increasingly strong over the past few years and its yearn for children created an ache deep in her breast. It was all she could to do not scream in agony at what she didn't have and everyone else did.

Maybe she should tell Jak she wanted children. Could he really say no to it? Could he deny her the thing she craved more then anything? Yes, Jak had become a hard warrior, but he wasn't heartless. The last thing he was was heartless.

"I'll let things settle for a little longer," Keira told herself as the large, dome-like Race Stadium came into view. "Then I'll talk to him. Not yet, though, not yet."

Why did she fell like she was running from something?

--&--

There were soft confused moans in the group. Moans of people just waking from a frightful dream and not remembering anything before that for a split second. And when they did a dread swallowed them.

One of the people in the group, a woman, raised her dark hair and looked into the blue of the sky. "Where are we? Oh, I feared we are dead! Where are we?"

"You are in the desert," answered another voice, this one calm and controlled and confident. "It has been over a thousand years since the Phoenix."

"It cannot be! It cannot be!" a man cried, jumping to his feet and pointing his finger at the speaker. "You lie! How can we have been asleep for over a thousand years? How can that be?"

"You were not asleep, you were dead. But it was by the sacrifice of the Goddess that you were given another chance to live. Sage-Harmona is being rebuilt as we speak and soon it will thrive as it once had. For now follow me to the Holy City and more shall be explained," the rider spoke, situating herself more firmly on her horse.

"The Holy City?" a woman whispered, pressing her child to her bosom in fright. "Surely that cannot be alive when Sage-Harmona has been destroyed? What strange world do we find ourselves waking into?"

"It shall be explained," the rider whispered in a soothing voice. "But the desert is dangerous. Beasts will attack you if you linger. Follow me and I will try to explain to you what happened after you were killed."

The people of the past saw they had no choice. Truly they didn't. The woman had said if they choose not to follow her then beasts would devour them and they had just been given back their lives and they were not so willing to sacrifice them again.

One by one, in perfect silence, they strode past the rider, faces pointed at the sand. Confusion and fear were written on many, but some had a blank look there for what was truly happening had not registered yet.

Nyx watched each of them with trained blue eyes. She had been born a warrior and the three years had not softened her. She had taken up collecting and reintroducing the people the power of the Goddess brought back to life. In a way, this was a way for her to look back upon her own life before her rebirth. Looking into each dark eye of a revived person reflected her own feelings upon waking up alone and frightened with her tiny sister beside her.

Despite herself, Nyx found herself looking among the group of people. And, not to be surprise, she did not see a flicker of red among them. The people of Sage-Harmona, or even of a village of Sage-Harmona, had all had dark hair and dark eyes and any splash of colour would have been easy to spot.

She sighed deeply and ran a hand through her blonde hair, which was still long and narrow and free. She should not look for him every time she found a new group of people on her patrols. He would not be there. After three years she should know that and have learned to let her fragile hope go.

And yet her heart would not let her. He was the reason she had agreed to help Sala with the integration of these people. If not for him she would have gone to Sage-Harmona and helped in its rebuilding.

"Nikolas," she sighed and then cursed herself. She wasn't sure why she was looking for this man, why her heart insisted that she search for him. Their last meeting had not been on the best of terms and their first meeting would be, without a doubt, awkward. With all that she had to do now was she ready to deal with the mess she and Nikolas had?

_They stood glaring at each other over the trembling body of a young boy, no more then eleven. Matching stubbornness reflected in their eyes. Nyx's hands had clenched into fists while Nik simply stared at her, silently burning with rage._

_"I can't simply stay behind for one little boy, no matter how much Crea wants me to. I have to find Gaeny. I know something's going to happen if I don't. Something bad. Understand, Nik," Nyx had been gentler then, softer if it was possible, and her voice lacked the military hardness it would years later._

_"Can't you understand, Nyx?" Nik shot back, his voice calm but it held an underlying anger. "Every time you look at him don't you see?"_

_"See what…?"_

Nyx shook the memory off. It wasn't often she allowed herself to visit such painful memories, but searching for Nik brought it back. With him she had felt an emotion that she had never felt before or would ever feel again. Their last conversation had been bitter and it left her with a sour taste in her mouth.

That was why, she supposed she was searching for Nik. She was trying to understand why she was so angry at him. For when ever her thoughts fell upon the young man she was overtaken with an anger, an anger that wasn't new to her. It was hurt, and betrayal, and trust broken.

_He had lied to her, he had lied to her._

"I'll never find him," Nyx told herself, her grip on her reins tightening on their own accord around her bridle. "And it's for the best."

There was a sudden ache in her heart but she didn't bother to rub it. Instead, she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and sent her horse trotting towards her group. There was no time to think of Nik. She had to help these people come to terms with the fact that they weren't dead, but in the future. That would take up all her priorities. Nik couldn't come first.

But if she did meet him… well, she would face that if it came.

--&--

Daxter came home beaten, bloody, and completely happy. It had taken quite a haggle with the Bazaar shop owners, but he had finally convinced them to conduct his newest alcoholic beverage, the Dax Slide! It would be the best drink Haven City had ever tasted. All around the world people would be clamoring for the Dax Slide. Weeping virgins would send him pictures and beg to be his bride, ignoring the fact that he was married and had two kids. And he of course, being the standup guy he was, would gently let them down.

But these thoughts left him as he climbed the stairs to the rooms above the Naughty Ottsel. Though Daxter had become very business minded over the last three years, it had not overcome his joy of being a husband and father.

He slammed the door to the living room loudly, so everyone who was in the house could know he had returned.

An eerie silence filled the air and Daxter smiled at the familiarity of it. In his head he slowly began to count down from five.

There was suddenly a sound of thunder heading right towards him. Predicting what would come next, Daxter opened his arms and waited to be plowed into the floor. Moments later, it happened.

"Daddy!" Lee screeched and curled his small, lithe body against Daxter's much taller one. "Daddy home! Yay, Daddy home! Momma! Momma! Daddy home!" Lee gave a whoop of happiness.

"'Ey, kiddo." Daxter ruffled his son's hair in a fatherly nature.

"Daddy, Momma yelled at me!" Lee pouted at his father, waiting impatiently for him to correct such a wrong.

At the same time Tess walked into the room, looking more then a little miffed. Daxter let out a yelp and jumped to his feet, holding his body in front of Lee's like a shield. "Stand back, Lee! It is the beast come to collect you!"

Tess growled and tossed muddy white shirt at him. "The new shirt I bought for him… ruined! I told him no outside!"

"Aweeeeeeeee!" Daxter looked down at his son, who gave him a sheepish grin. "Sorry, kid, you're on your own for this one. I know very well not to mess around with a woman and her clothing!"

As Daxter backed away from Lee the little boy sat on the floor and sent his mother a pleading look. "Momma, tired. I sorry? Please, carry?" His doe-eyed look was so perfect that even the coldest heart would have melted in front of him. With a sad smile he held up his arms.

With a gentle, loving smile Tess bent down and gathered Lee into her arms. "There, there, baby, let's go to bed. Daxter, there's some dinner on the table. I'll be down in a minute."

Daxter grinned at them both, beyond happiness, and bounded off into the kitchen. A nice rack of ribs waited for him and it wasn't long before his was teeth deep in thick, juicy meat.

Tess came down with a small grin and took a seat beside him. In her hand was a drink filled with too much caffeine to be anywhere near healthy. However, with a child like Lee sometimes the caffeine was necessary.

"He's weird," Daxter decided between a hunk of meat. "He's active then all of sudden he's just… _done_. Nothing's wrong is there?"

She shook her head. "No, he's just been sick lately, Dax. That's all."

Daxter bent down and kissed her cheek. "Tess… we're happy, aren't we?"

The young blonde woman blinked at him in confusion for a moment before answering, "Yes, Daxter, we're happy. Why wouldn't we be?" She fixed her blue eyes steadily onto his brown ones. "What brought that question on?"

"I look at Jak and I know he's not happy. I mean, yeah he loves Keira and yeah he wants to be married to her, but they're both too afraid to say what they really want. Sometimes I wonder if we're too afraid, too." Daxter seemed to more muse on it than question Tess on it.

"Daxter, all I want is a family and a man I love. You've given me that and more. This is what I want." There was such a confidence in her voice that Daxter could not see it as anything but true.

"I know, that's all I want, too. Guess I'm just getting Jak's grumpiness in me. He's needs to be a dad. He'd make a good dad." Daxter pulled Tess into his lap and kissed her full on the mouth. "All I want is you and Lee, Tess, and this new baby. That's all I need."

"I know, I know. Everything's going to be fine, Daxter."

**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

AN: Okay, so there's Act I. I'm sure some of you can guess by now, but in case you didn't this story is going to be heavy on the angst. I mean, like super angsty. I dun know why, but something told me just to try it this way. I think the title _We Bury the Dead Alive_ should give it away, but for those of us who aren't very hint oriented I spelled it out for you. Actually, though it's the title for part one that old proverb will be a major factor throughout the story.

**Act II**: Jak and Keira continue to beat around the bush about what they really want while makes a discovery, there is a little bid of blood, we get see how Gareth and Sala are doing, Crea is reintroduced, and the angst begins.

_I don't suffer from insanity, I enjoy every moment of it_

–Lizzy Rebel


	2. Bless the Child

**Disclaimer:** Are you making fun of mocking me!?

A/N: Look, it's updated! Yay updates! I'm very pleased to the turnout for the first act. To the newbes welcome! To those returning, nice to see you again!

Alright, how about some warning before we begin? This chapter might not start out like it, but it'll get dark. Like I'm going to be a bitch and ruin Daxter's life dark. Look blood on the floor dark. Ready? Okay, we can begin now.

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**Act II: Bless the Child**

When the last of Keira's screams died in his ears, Jak managed to roll his weak, sweaty and sated body half off hers. He pressed his lips to her pounding throat, one hand cupped possessively on her waist.

Keira gave a throaty murmur of pleasure and ran her fingers through his soaked hair. He could feel her lips move along his hairline and he smiled against the pale column of her throat.

"Jak…" her voice was deeper then its normal tone, laden with sleep and exhaustion.

He looked down at her, watching the moon play across the soft of her features. She was like a heavenly angel caught in the throes of an earthly passion. Her body—naked, smooth, lean, and slender—was pressed so yieldingly against his that it was all he could do to simply look upon her.

"Missed you," he said in way of answer, dipping a kiss to her shoulder as Keira mumbled a reply.

After two days of scouting missions with the Wastelanders he had crawled into Keira's bed—well, really theirs now—exhausted, hungry, lusting, and maybe a little smelly. All of these Keira had accepted with open arms and a smile on her lips.

What had he done in a past life to gain enough favour to win her over? Keira put up with a lot of shit as his wife and she still hadn't thrown in the towel. He could be gone at any moment, for days on end, without being able to speak to her until he returned. She was always being harassed by the media with their endless questions on their love life and Jak's latest exploits.

It would be a lot easier, he knew, if she simply chose to settle down with an average Haven City resident. One who the media didn't care about or someone who had a steady job. Anyone but him to state the matter truthfully.

And yet, Keira stuck with it. She supported his missions and was understanding when he suddenly just had to be… be off. She refused to let to media intimidate her and she was always willing to answer their annoying and trifle questions.

He stroke her hair, a part of him wondering what in Haven he would do without her and another part demanding he didn't think about it. Thinking of life without her would be too painful. He just couldn't do it. He was like a soldier who had finally managed to return home to his awaiting wife.

"I missed you, too…" Keira replied, unaware of his thoughts. "Did your mission go well?"

"Hmmm," he mumbled and laid back down against her. "Nothing was there. I'm beginning to think Torn just drags me out there to piss me off. And you know what? It's working."

Keira chuckled and drew lazy circles down his back. "But it's a good thing, isn't it? No Metal Heads, I mean."

"Yeah. They're scattering now, away from Haven City. Seems without Kor they don't have much of a brain." Jak frowned whenever thinking about the former Metal Head leader. His friends often tried to keep his mind from the man.

She looked up at him and felt her heart constrict in her chest. It took all her willpower not to open her mouth and say all the little needs she had been feeling overwhelming her the past few days.

_Jak, I want children. I want a family. I want to be happy. Don't you want that, too?_ She kept those thoughts locked away from him, afraid it would be one more burden on his mind. And he already had so much to do. _There'll be time later, Keira. Jak and I… we have our whole life's ahead of us._

"Keira…? Something on your mind?" he questioned but the young woman shook her head in an answer.

He frowned again but didn't let her see it. Something was on her mind, but he wasn't going to probe her. Maybe he should, maybe he needed to know, but he wasn't going to.

She tilted her head and smiled up at him, her face catching the moonlight once more. "Jak, you know that you're all I want, right?"

Jak, for the life of him, couldn't guess why Keira was asking these questions. "I know, Keira. Why…?"

"I just wanted to make sure. No matter what happens, Jak, no matter what we decide, as long as I'm with you I'll be happy." Keira felt the urge to tell him so. She didn't want him to ever believe that she was unhappy when she was with him.

He kissed her full on the mouth, love and passion stirred in her breast. Keira's arms rose and wrapped around him neck, clinging to him. They had become so close over the past two and a half years that it was as if they breathed through the same mouth, shared the same heart, reflected the same mind. They were soul-mates, these two. Lucky enough to find each other in the whirling chaos known as life.

As she felt herself slip into the gentle arms of sleep Keira managed to mumble one last thing. "No matter what happens Jak, as long as we're together everything will turn out fine… all we have to do is be together…" And then a blackness accustomed to sleep took over her and she was falling into the awaiting arms of Lord Morphus.

Jak sat there, content to simply stare at Keira. In sleep she looked much like the girl he had first met and fallen in love with in an innocent little town called Sandover Village. That Keira fit that time and that place and perhaps in her dreams she was still in Sandover Village, with nothing to worry about except exploring the uncharted terrain. When she was awake she became the Keira that fit this city, hardened and sassy with an edge that gave her the survival she needed.

They all had had to sacrifice things to survive in Haven City. Jak, his kindness and his wonder of the world, and for Keira, her innocence and trustfulness. If these things had remained with them during their years separated in Haven City they surely would have been eaten alive.

And now the world was very slowly going back to the way it had been in his childhood. There were no wars, the Metal Heads were dispersing, and a whole new diversity was beginning to show up. Within time it wouldn't be one city standing against the world, but an entire world against the universe. Soon, the people who had lived on the land before Haven City's foundations had even been erected would scourer the earth once more. And the residence of this city would have to recognize that.

The people of Keira's home city—a city she had only recently been aware of—called her the descent of a Goddess. Nothing could have been truer. Being with Keira seemed unreal, like it was an illusion his tortured mind had assembled to comfort him. He worried sometimes that Keira would just suddenly one day leave him, step back behind the curtain of dreams and leave him standing empty and alone.

Perhaps that was why he clung to her so tightly. There always was, deep down inside, this fear that their peaceful time was ending with each passing day. He always allotted that to the fact that there had been never been a time of peace in his life. The peace his childhood had given him had been disrupted by Gol and Maya, then right after that any hope for peace had been destroyed by the Baron and his experiments, then he had become a renegade for Torn. When everything had settled down Keira had began her own adventure and brought another fight to Jak.

Where there some people who were not meant for peace? And more importantly was he one of them? Was this new life he had created—Wastelander leader, husband—just another hoax until the next thing came to threaten his peace?

"No," he said fiercely to himself, his grip on Keira tightening. "Not happening. I'm done with fighting…"

_You owe me, Jak…_

That voice always attacked his subconscious whenever he begun to hope that this life he had created with Keira was true. And it always renewed the doubt that clouded his mind. It made him wonder what was to come next. What would happen to him, to Keira, to everyone, in the next few years.

It felt like he was carrying a burden around in his heart, much like when he had first learned about his alter ego, Dark Jak. When he looked at Keira, or Daxter, or Torn he had the sudden feeling that he was keeping a deadly secret from them and by doing so he had just set in motion the very thing that would destroy their lives.

But it couldn't be true, could it? It was just Jak being Jak. They had finally been given their hard-earned peace. Nothing could destroy that. It was theirs now. They could do with it as they pleased.

He settled down against Keira, trying to grab the sleep that had so easily come to her. _Stop worrying about it, Jak. You've got Keira now and you'll start a family with her soon, that's all that matters._

But in the back of him mind a voice whispered, _you owe me, Jak_.

--&--

There was only darkness around her, darkness. It consumed every little bead of hopeful light that might have thought to shine through and ease her worry.

She was used to the darkness, she had grown up in the desert wastelands where there were no light towards midnight. But this darkness scared her. It was an unnatural, perverse, darkness. It was forced here, in a place that was supposed to be filled with that. Who had dared to do this?

"Please… please… someone…" She groped around blindly in the dark, reaching out for anything that might clue her in as to what was going on. There was no noise here, only complete silence. Even the sound of her harsh breathing seemed to be swallowed up by the imposing darkness.

Suddenly, there was a hissing sound filling to room. It was soft, but the room was quiet that it seemed like a bomb had suddenly been let off into the room. She screamed loudly in terror, running headfirst into a wall.

Blood poured down the side of her face, falling into her eyes. She beat her fists against the wall trying to find someone who would help her, free her. It never occurred to her that no one would listen to the screams of someone from the desert.

Then her pounding ceased. It was like all the energy was being drained from her. A cooper taste flooded in her mouth and poured down her chin. She could feel liquid running down from all part of her body. It frightened her.

She opened her mouth to scream again, but only silence filled the room. She couldn't scream. Her hands rose and wrapped around her throat, pressing against the sticky liquid there.

Falling to the floor, she felt herself give a heaving breath. Her lungs were burning in protest. For some reason it seemed to her like they weren't taking in the oxygen in the room.

A new darkness surrounded her eyes, but this darkness was welcomed. A hand closed around her heart and creased it, held it with a warmth that made all her earlier panic leave her.

She collapsed into the ground, curling into a ball. But her soul had already left her body. She was unaware of the things she did.

A light in the room flickered on, but the girl was unaware of it. Her eyes were lifeless and unseeing. Though her lungs still heaved with breath she was in all sense dead. And only a few moments later her body shut down all together and she was truly and utterly dead.

A man walked into the room, a long, thick buttoned-down robe swishing against his ankles. The high collar of his robe hid the small bead of sweat pouring down from his neck. In this room it was hot and the stinging smell of death had already begun to fill the air.

Without an emotion flickering across his face, the man bent down and examined the body of the girl. Her eyes, jade green, stared up into his. Blood poured from her mouth and from her ears and from every other major pour in her body.

He sniffed and rubbed his nose in an uninterested way. "Failure…" he muttered to himself and the other presence in the room.

"Apparently so. Have you considered lowering the toxins?" another voice questioned and a much older man stepped forward, leaning heavily upon his jagged cane for support. "I dare say no one can survive so much poison being feed into their body at one time. Perhaps small doses at different intervolves of time?"

The younger man sighed and ruffled silvery blonde hair. "That will take time." He said it as if they were simply speaking of the weather, as if the girl laying before them was nothing more then a discarded piece of furniture.

"Yes, but it was patience that won the war," the older chided.

"Speak not to me of war! For you know well that it makes my mouth sour," the man thundered, his face contorted. "These fools today know nothing of war, of sacrifice! Oh, but we shall show them! We shall!"

"Of course we will. You shall see to that. You shall make everything as it was, as it should be," he said it like a soothing mother, slightly chiding, slightly comforting, and slightly amused. "I simply meant to prove that even if it takes us years to complete the experiments properly, it will only take us a day to win this war."

"Yes, yes. You're right. Of course, you're always right. I do not care how long it takes. We shall see this experiment finished," the man said as he clenched his fists together in rage.

"Leave these things to me, I shall handle them. You must concentrate on the task at hand. We can do little if we are not in power. Shall you see to it?" the older man asked, a small smile playing across his wrinkled and wizened face.

"Aye, that I shall." A mean smile crossed his face. "That I shall."

--&--

Keira's eyes fluttered open as she was greeted to, once again, the empty spot of Jak's side of the bed. She wasn't surprise. She could remember him vaguely rousing her just enough to whisper that he had to go back into Dead Town with Torn for more Metal Head scouting.

At another time in the past two and a half years, Keira would have been upset to find Jak gone, but today, and yesterday and the day before that, she was glad. The moment she raised herself a fraction of an inch of her bed her stomach recoiled in protest and punished her.

She pressed a hand to her lips and threw herself at the bathroom to the side of the bed. There she promptly brought up whatever food had still remained inside her stomach from the other day.

Shakily, she raised herself to the sink and looked at the woman staring back at her from the mirror. She was pale and trembling and worried and she was, in all aspect, reflecting exactly what Keira was feeling.

Turning the water on as cold as she could, Keira took a big gulp from the faucet and prayed that her stomach didn't turn it up. When it didn't she went to take a shower to warm her cold limbs.

When she was done and clean and smelling much better, she found herself yet again staring into the steamy mirror on top of the sink.

She was no doctor, but she knew the signs. She had been throwing up for the past week or so and certain foods that she had found appetizing before now made her stomach twist in anguish.

No one knew what she suspected, of course. She hadn't told anyone. She was afraid to. What happened if word got around to Jak? How would he take it? No, she had to be absolutely certain before she even dared to whisper it to anyone.

Her hands lowered to rest on her abdomen. No matter what, she was happy and the secret she carried around with her made her eyes shine and sparkle with womanly intuition.

She had a doctor's appointment today, near the palace. Sig had agreed to take her. The man who was her biological father must have had his suspicions about why his daughter needed to go to the doctor's but he hadn't asked and she hadn't told. Though Keira had sworn she'd tell him her suspicions in the car.

Twirling, she moved back into her room and hurried to get dressed. It was almost close to late morning and her appointment was at noon. Sig would be here soon.

As she got dressed she couldn't help but think about her father. Well, he wasn't really her father if one got down to the technical stuff. He had given her some of his genes, the green of her eyes being most apparent, but through the trickery of the Holy City's Royal Council he had abandoned both Keira's mother and herself. When her mother had been forced to flee from an evil god known as Erisen, Keira had wound up in the care of Samos the Sage of Green Eco, who then raised her as his own daughter.

Keira still considered Samos her father and she still called him 'Daddy'. The man was, in the emotional sense, her father. He had raised her and helped shape her into the woman she was today. She loved him and she wouldn't trade Samos in for all the money in the world.

As far as Sig went they were just barely beginning to understand one another. The tenseness that had plagued them both when Keira had first learned about Sig' past was slowly leaving them. Now they were trying to understand one another, trying to catch up on all they missed. It was futile, they had missed an entire lifetime, but Keira was becoming more and more friendlier towards Sig. Though she doubted he'd ever be a fatherly figure to her, she might look up to him in a few more years.

There was a knock on her door and Keira rushed to get. Big, tough Wastelander Sig stood there in his battle regale, looking a little nervous. He wanted to be a part of his daughter's life, but sometimes he wasn't sure how.

"Sig! Thanks for agreeing to take me. I didn't know who else to turn to. Everyone would just ask questions," Keira explained and stepped outside with him.

"Well, Keira, I wanna know just what the hell is goin' on, too, but I can wait seein' as how you were so anxious to get me to say yes." Sig shrugged his big, broad shoulders and smiled down into her face, pleased she had come to him.

"Okay… I suppose you got a right to know…" She smiled down at her stomach. "I think I'm pregnant. I needed someone to take me to the doctors for my tests to be sure. Everyone else would just ask me and bother me about it."

Sig stared at her for a long, silent minute. Then his dark face broke out into a grin that had an odd resemblance to the one Keira owned. "Well, hell, girl! And people said you and Jak were goin' slow!" He had the urge to pick her up and spin her around, but he resisted. Keira may not have any daughterly sentiments to him, but he sure as hell felt some fatherly ones to her. Every time he looked at her he was reminded of the woman he had left behind, Keira's mother.

Keira couldn't stop grinning. It had been pleasant to keep her secret wrapped around her like a warm security blanket, but seeing her joy mirrored on someone else's face was far better than that. "I—I can't be sure right now… but I think…"

"Let's get ya to the doctor then!" Sig grabbed her arm and started to make a mad dash for his hovercar when he stopped. "Take it slow," he advised her and started again for the car, slower this time. "We gotta be carefully, cherry. You're an expecting woman now…"

She smiled cheekily at him as they made their way to his hovercar. When Sig had retired as head of the Wastelanders and given his position over to Jak, Sig had revealed a secret hobby of his, engineering. While he was no where near as good as Keira was it served as one more proof of her heritage and it made their conversations easier; whenever someone said something that made them awkward they would fall back into talking about car parts.

Sig gunned the engine just as Keira snapped a seat belt securely around her body. She hadn't convinced him yet, but Keira was well on her way to persuading Sig to join her racing team. He liked barreling down the roads fast and wild, which was just the kind of driver the team needed for the season's races.

Keira smiled and thought nothing could ruin her perfect life.

--&--

Sala of Rye, ruler of the Holy City, sighed rubbed her temples fiercely. It was just barely noon and she was already beginning to fight a migraine. Being a ruler sucked… big time.

She sat at a large, hardwood desk covered with white lined papers. There were so many of them that they completely hid the wood from view. There were stacks to the right of her and the left and their were a number of them spread out so she could read them.

Suddenly, two hands cupped her fingers rubbing her temples and increased the power of the massage. She moaned in pleasure and felt two lips run themselves along the back of her neck.

Gareth of Luxhine, her husband of a good two years, ran his fingers through Sala's rich, mink hair. His laughing bright blue eyes were somber now, they had been for a almost year. He knew very well the weight Sala carried on her still young shoulders. And he knew very well there was nothing he could do to help her.

But they spoke none of this. Sala raised her arms and reached for him behind her back. Her fingers twined his black hair, the gold highlights stark against it. He spent most of his time out in the sun, he was the head commander of the Royal Fleet, and the burning heat source had left its imprint on Gareth's head.

Elegantly, Gareth bestowed on Sala's neck more kisses. Sala's eyes closed and her lips parted with a soft moan, her grip in his hair tightening.

"You worry too much," he told her when he pulled his full lips away from her neck.

Sala shivered and answered in a firm voice, "You don't worry enough." She lifted her fingers from his hair and pressed it against the white papers. "This is serious stuff, Gareth. It has to be taken so."

The young man took a seat on the desk, his eyes scanning over the papers. "I know, but it isn't reason enough to work yourself to death over it. We're doing just fine right now, Sala. Should any threat arise the Fleet is more then prepared to handle it."

"I know, you know I know. But, Gareth, I'm looking to the future. How can we be sure we'll be ready for anything in the next two years? Anything could change." She sighed and leaned against her desk. "This 'Restoring Act' is a more difficult one than I had imagined."

Since the Holy City had begun to collect and help restore the people and places the Goddess's power was slowly bringing back to life they had not seen a moment of peace. Sala and Gareth hadn't even been able to go on their honeymoon after their marriage because it was so taxing.

The revived people needed consoling and deep explanations. Many were enraged at missing so much during their time trapped in the Kraaz Lands and such anger needed to be destroyed so they didn't have a rebellion on their hands.

And on top of that Sage-Harmona, the ancient, grand city, had finally begun to appear. The rulers there, the family of Yoshimoro, had needed help from Sala and her city to help their people get back into the swing of life. The royal family had also needed to be filled in on the history they had missed, which had been a lot. They needed to catch up with the times if they wanted to continue to rule their people effectively.

"It's happening slower than I thought it would," Gareth admitted. "I thought it would be just one big _boom_ and everything would be back to normal."

"I'm glad it didn't happen that way. We can barely handle the small groups the Fleet bring in everyday. Can you imagine dealing with them all at once?" Sala shuddered at the very thought.

"Well, that's mostly Nyx's fault," Gareth pointed out with a small smile. "The Fleet only brings about one or two groups a day. Nyx brings in at least five a day."

"Yes, she takes this very seriously," Sala frowned in consideration. "In fact, I don't think she's taken anything quite as serious as this."

"It's like Crea told us yesterday; Nyx is looking for that Nik guy." Gareth shrugged, but smiled when he remembered Crea and her saying how Nyx _loooooooooved_ Nik.

"She hardly talks about him," Sala pointed out. "I mean, Crea talks about that Nik all that time, just as she does that Venn boy, but Nyx won't speak about anything from her past. Do you think she's afraid to?"

"More then that. I think it's too painful for her. Remembering the past just makes her think about Sage-Harmona… and you know what a mess _that_ situation is…" Gareth trailed off and allowed Sala to fill in the blanks herself.

"That's what's worrying me the most. This Sage-Harmona business. The Yoshimoro family may be willing to accept that they won't be the hubbub of activity now, but not everyone else is so willing. The militants from that city… they're growing rowdier and rowdier by the day." Sala sighed again and began to rub her temples, which ached at the very thought of the Sage-Harmona mess.

Gareth mirrored her sigh. "This is a damned problem, Sala. I don't know how we're going to handle it… and I'm usually good with this kind of stuff. But we're talking about the Sage-Harmona military that's unhappy. I mean, even today they're stronger then anything we've fought before. If comes down to a war how can we possibly hope to win?"

"I hope it doesn't come to that, Gareth," Sala pointed out. "The Yoshimoro family needs to figure out who's leading this would-be rebellion and incarcerate him. You'll be pulling the weed up at the roots then."

"I think the Yoshimoro family is too 'fraid to try anything like that. I don't blame them… all those military men are hard-nosed, deadly fighters who grew up in a time when dying for your cause was accepted, even applauded. I don't think they would blink if it came down to killing the royal family." Gareth gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair. "But whatever happens, Sala, I'm by your side. Husband and commander."

"I know… and I can't tell you how glad I am for it, Gareth." Sala buried her face against the side of his neck. "When all this began I never thought about the penalties. When I learned that people from the God Era were going to be reborn and given a second chance at a life that was taken from them I never considered what it would do to this city. Somehow, I thought everyone would simply mold together and it would seem like Sage-Harmona was always with us. Should I have seen this, Gareth?"

Gareth tenderly raised her head he could look at her. Sala kept her head lowered and bit her lip, a very uncommon thing for a woman of her stature to do. He brushed the dark hair from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Sala, you want only to see the happily ever after at the end. You don't like to think maybe some people can't have a good ending. I didn't think about this either. I saw the light in your eyes, the way you were visioning the future for this planet, and I only saw the good ending, too. I was the one who should have seen this; I was always the one that tried to see things as they were, to consider every angle."

"Whatever happens, we'll have this together… and not alone. If I have to, Haven City will be our firm ally. After all, we're facing these sudden and threatening changes together." Sala leaned against him, her eyes drifting closed.

"Yes, we have friends and allies. Whatever happens, we won't fail." Gareth rocked her gently, in a soothing motion.

Sighing in content, she fell asleep against him.

--&--

Crea, now almost eleven, blasted a hole into the wall with her twin guns… _accidentally_. She missed the little cardboard cutout she had set up by a good three feet. The little, poorly created cutout grinned at her.

Grinning sheepishly she replaced the guns to her calves and backed away before someone noticed.

"Hmm… yup, defiantly off…" Crea told herself and pressed a hand to her chin to consider it. She hurried through the gardens towards the entrance, walking past training Fleet members and mages and other officials at the palace without so much as blinking. A fire spell gone array zipped by her hair, singed the edges, and she continued walking as if nothing happened.

The mages, and warriors, and knights glanced at one another, shrugged, and then went back to their training. Crea's strange behavior had become daily routine for them. In fact, it might have seemed odd without her antics.

"Nyx! Hiya, Nyx!" Crea waved her thin arms in the air wildly and even though she barely got a nod of acknowledgement she squealed with joy.

Her sister, a twenty year old Nyx, held out her arms with a frustrated sigh as Crea threw herself into Nyx's lap. The water she had been dousing her hair in fell to the floor and spilled out its contents.

"Sorry!" Crea chirped and Nyx sighed.

"Doesn't matter… I was done with it anyhow…" She ran her fingers through Crea's hair, a habit she had gotten into in the past three years.

Crea sighed in ecstasy and leaned back against her sister. "My shooting's off… all your fault, Nyx, you know?

"How is it my fault?" Crea's hair was almost to her waist and the luscious locks were perfect for braiding. Nyx had never been one to play with her hair, but the feel of Crea's hair between her fingers soothed her.

"You're upset so I'm upset. When I'm upset I shoot holes into the walls!" the young woman explained, as if she thought it should be obvious.

"Well, sorry… I think…"

"Do you miss Nik?" Crea asked, changing the subject suddenly.

Nyx's hands stilled. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause you always say his name when you're asleep. And you're always looking for him. The only reason you aren't looking today is because Gareth said you had to take a break, right?" Crea questioned.

"I dunno, Crea. You were little then, but Nik and I… well, we weren't exactly on friendly terms when Eris… destroyed Sage-Harmona."

Crea frowned. "It was about Venn, right?"

"He wasn't the real reason, but he was the catalyst for it," Nyx answered and resumed her braiding.

"Venn doesn't mean to be a burden to you two, Nyx. I know it." Crea sighed and squirmed in her lap. "I'm gonna have to go look for him soon."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Venn hasn't shown up here so I figure he's out in the desert. He doesn't like cities you know so he probably wouldn't come here, but I promised I'd find him so I gotta… he was my best friend." Crea raised her head and smiled up into Nyx's wide eyes. "Don't worry, though, Nyx, I won't leave until I'm sure you can handle yourself." She patted Nyx's cheek in a friendly manner.

"Oh, looking after me are you?" Nyx questioned and raised an eyebrow. Here was Crea, who ran into walls at random intervals of time, saying she was the one looking that needed looking after.

Crea nodded, her blonde curls bouncing. "You need me, but once I'm sure you'll be okay on your own I'm off! I wanna see the world, Nyx! I wanna experience everything. The desert will be my first stop!"

Something inside Nyx tightened. Perhaps it was fear, or worry, or a combination of both. She didn't want Crea to leave. Her sister and she had never been far apart for so long that the thought of it frightened her.

At the same time, looking into the bright blue eyes of Crea, Nyx knew she couldn't ask her to stay. Crea was the wild child, she couldn't be tamed by anyone, but she would stay if someone she loved asked her to. But in return, her wings would be clipped, the fire would die, and she would become too much like Nyx.

The young girl jumped to her feet and smiled down into her sister's eyes. "I know, Nyx! Let's do something together, just to two of us! We're always running off after Niky that I never see you anymore!"

Crea was right, Nyx thought on a sigh. Nik had taken up most of her time. Crea was her sister and she hadn't really given her much thought since the people had begun to be reborn. She owned her, Nyx supposed.

"Very well, what do you want to play?"

"Hmm…" Crea tapped a finger against her lips, frowning playfully. "Hide and seek! You count and I hide!"

Nyx watched as Crea skipped off, humming an off tune sung under her breath. She stared at the little girl until Crea turned around and glared at her.

"Cheater! You're not supposed to peek!" When Nyx continued to stare, Crea stomped over to and demanded, "Hey! Didn't you hear me, Nyx!? You're supposed to close your eyes!"

But before Nyx could answer Crea raised a hand to her hair and felt the singed areas. Her eyes grew wide. "Hey! Who burned me!?"

Nyx sighed deeply, oddly relieved. At least, Crea's zany attitude would never change. That wackiness was a constant. She could always rely on that, even if everything else changed around them.

"Food!" Forgetting their game and her hair, Crea turned and made a mad dash towards the palace. "Me want food!"

She followed after the girl.

--&--

"Well, Mrs. Mar, seems you were right. You are pregnant." The blonde doctor, a pretty young thing that began her practice a year after Praxis's dethroning, smiled down into Keira's nervous eyes. "About two months along now."

"You mean it!?" Keira's face lit up as the doctor nodded. "Oh! You won't tell the media or anything, will you? I don't… I don't want…"

"Mrs. Mar, I am a doctor and as a doctor I am sworn to keep my clients secrets closed to the public. Even if I had wanted to I couldn't. You then have the grounds to sue me." The doctor gave Keira a reassuring look.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Keira hopped down from the metal slab she had laid on for her tests and stripped off her hospital gown. She pulled on her own clothes and pressed a kiss to the doctor's cheek. "I'm sorry happy!"

"Congratulations," the doctor said politely as Keira rushed from the room, barely sparing her a glance. The doctor chuckled and went to file the information on Keira Hagai-Mar away.

"Sig! Sig!" Keira cried as she rushed down the marble hallways, hopping on one foot as she struggled to put her foot in her shoe.

Sig had been sitting in the waiting room in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs like a nervous father. His leg had bounced nervously as he waited for Keira to show up and tell him the results. He was worried for her like any normal father would have been.

And when she came bounding down the hall he stood and sent her a chiding look. "Slow down! Remember you're—" Keira threw herself into his arms and hugged him as tight as her arms would allow her.

"I'm pregnant!" she cried happily. "The tests were positive! I'm two months pregnant. Oh, Sig, I'm so happy! I thought I wouldn't be 'cause I don't know how Jak will react but I don't care. I'm just so happy! I've never been happier in my entire life. I'm going to have Jak's baby!"

Keira was lucky that the waiting room was empty, because though the doctors weren't allowed to talk to the media patients were. It was quite possible Jak would have known about Keira's condition before he had even returned home.

The big, burly former Wastelander hugged her back, though not as hard as he could have, his mind already snapping at him to be careful with Keira. "Wonderful, cherry. You gonna be a great mother."

She raised her face form his chest and asked in a hurried voice, "What did you think Jak will say? Do you think he'll be happy, Sig?"

"Keira, he'll be the happiest man in Haven!" Sig answered with such confidence that Keira couldn't doubt him. "What do you want to do now, cherry?"

"I wanna… I wanna… go see Daddy. Daddy should know. Did you think you could take me, Sig?" Keira questioned, her eyes wide and her lips still curved in a large smile.

"Sure, cherry. No problem." In truth, he and Samos the Sage weren't on the best terms, but Sig would be damned if he let Keira walk the streets alone, especially in her new condition.

He smirked as he led Keira to his hovercar. If he was this protective over Keira imagine how Jak would be! The poor girl would be lucky if she was able to walk for five minutes on her own before Jak rushed in to rescue her.

It made him chuckle. Jak would make a great father, even if the boy had misgivings about it at first. He was a hero, a man's man, and completely in love with his wife. That was all a child needed to be shaped into a good adult.

"Do you think I'll make a good mother?" Keira questioned suddenly as they weaved in and out traffic. "I never thought about it before, but I really don't know anything about raising children…"

"I think you'll do fine, Keira. You and Jak are gonna be great parents. As long as you're happy and the kid's happy and Jak's happy then everything will be fine." Sig felt a little like a hypocrite by saying that to her. After all, he had run out on her when she was young, leaving her mother heartbroken, and Keira had turned out fine.

"I hope so. All I want is to see that this child of Jak and mine is happy and safe. No wars, no rebellions, I just want him or her to have a peaceful life." Keira's hand rose to rest on her abdomen, as if her child's life was already threatened.

Sig pulled up in front of Samos's flat near the palace and smiled at her. "Don't worry, Keira. Thanks to Jak it seems that there'll be peace for a long time to come. Let's go and tell the good news to your Daddy."

Keira hopped from the car and—despite Sig's many protests—took the stairs two at a time. She rang the doorbell and shifted from one foot to the other as Sig came up behind her. She offered him a nervous smile.

Samos the Sage opened the door and sent his daughter a bemused look. "Keira…?" He sounded more then a little shocked to see her.

Then Samos's eyes landed on Sig and they narrowed slightly. He didn't know all of Sig's history, but he had been filled in enough to know that Sig was Keira's real father. Though Sig and Samos had agreed to act at least civil around each other for Keira's peace of mind, the Sage couldn't help but feel tense around the man.

After all, how was he supposed to feel? The girl he had raised and loved like his daughter had gone off and come back with the man who had abandoned her and seemed to be trying her best to fix their broken relationship. Though he knew it was ridiculous, Samos felt like Sig was slowly stealing his daughter away from him.

"Daddy… can we come in, I have something important to tell you," Keira asked and offered him the special smile she always reserved for him. Not Sig, or any of her friends, or even Jak, got the smile Keira gave her father.

"Yes, of course, Keira." Samos widened his door and allowed both Keira and Sig to enter. Sig and Samos's eyes meet briefly and they nodded curtly to one another. For Keira's sake they would be friendly.

"Daddy, you'll never guess what…" Keira offered her father the biggest smile he had ever seen on her beautiful face and it twined around his heart and filled him with fatherly affection.

"What is it?" He found himself returning the smile, the love for his daughter evident on his face. A mixture of curiosity was also there. For the life of him he could not figure out what had Keira smiling so.

"Well, I'm pregnant!"

"WHAT!?"

--&--

The music, slow and sultry, filled the room as Daxter twirled Tess around in their living room. Light from the lamps around them made her eyes glow and the lust was very clear in his eyes.

"For someone who was an ottsel for a chunk of their life you sure do know how to woo a girl, Dax." He dipped her back and her fingers automatically locked in his hair.

"Well, Tess, I've been practicing," he answered and dipped his head to kiss the smooth column of her throat, licking it lightly with his tongue.

"Daxter!" Tess giggled and half-heartedly pushed against him. "I just put Lee down to bed. He'll be up again at any minute. You want to give him the birds and the bees talk?"

"Now, Tess, we have at least fifteen minutes before our darling Lee wakes up and I plan to use that to my fullest extent. Besides, I thought we agreed _you'd_ be being the sex education." Daxter grinned into her face and snatched a kiss from her parted lips.

"Charmer…" Tess sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. With one good push she had them both falling to the couch in the side of the room. Daxter landed on top while Tess squirmed playfully beneath him.

"Vixen," Daxter answered and ran his fingers through her hair. She looked beautiful, fair and white against the dark forest of their couch.

"Go on then, Daxter, kiss me before Lee comes down!" Tess held up her mouth to give Daxter an easier access. "But you're telling him what we're doing if he comes down and sees."

"We're wrestling," Daxter answered and pressed another, deeper, kiss to her awaiting mouth.

"Momma…?" a little voice squeaked and Daxter jumped away from Tess, all ready opening his mouth to explain to his son what he and his wife were doing.

But their son didn't seem to be seeing _them_ at all. His eyes were glazed over and his face was pale and his little body was trembling. His eyes seemed locked a fixed point that was in his mind's eye. The little mouth was opened, but whether in horror or sickness no one could tell. It seemed to be a mix of both.

"Lee!?" Daxter made his way over to his son, Tess gathering herself together and biting her lips in worry.

"Dun feel good…" the boy admitted and then properly collapsed.

Daxter rushed forward and gathered his son in the circle of his arms, rocking the boy gently. They both fell to the ground, as if the tiny weight was too much for Daxter to support. "Lee… Lee?"

Tess gave a scream and hurried over to them, running frantic fingers down Lee's face. "Lee! Lee!" The boy gave a small moan at the sound of his mother's voice, as if trying to answer.

"Damnit, Tess! Call an ambulance!" His worry made his voice harsh. Tess nodded numbly and moved to the kitchen, sobbing out in terror.

Lee moaned softly against Daxter's chest and finally managed to raise his head. He looked into his father's eyes, wide and frightened. "Daddy… Ah'm… Ah'm scared. My head hurts."

"Hush, Lee. You're gonna be fine, Daddy's gonna protect you." Daxter's vision clouded with tears as he stared into the little face. The boy's fingers clutched onto the fabric of his shirt, using it as a lifeline. "I promise."

The little boy sighed deeply and gagged on it. "Please, Daddy, make the pain go away." Then his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep.

Daxter sat there for a long time, simply rocking his son back and forth. Tess joined them shortly and, with tears running down her cheeks, knelt besides Daxter. She ran her hands over Lee's face, struggling with her tears.

"He's been so sick all month, Daxter, and I didn't worry about it." She began to sob harder. "It's my fault. This is all my fault."

It wasn't, and Daxter knew that. But he couldn't answer. Lee was so small and tiny in his arms he was afraid that if he said anything he would smoother the boy. Tess's sobs faded from his mind and there only was Lee, his little boy, dying in his arms. Over and over again Lee's voice begged Daxter to take away his pain in his head.

He couldn't soothe Tess. He had become so cold, like his heart had frozen over. There was nothing he could do to thaw it. His very soul was dying with each step closer to death Lee took.

They sat their in silence, Tess and Daxter, with only her sobs breaking it occasionally.

Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the flashing red lights of the ambulance arrived. Daxter didn't feel anything, not even panic now. There was just this sense of dread welling up in him.

Lee was still breathing when they pulled him into the hovercar.

--&--

Black boots stopped in front of Daxter, slumped in his chair in the pale, marble hallways of the hospital. Besides him Tess was crying softly. They had been in the same spot for over three hours.

"Mr… ah… Daxter?" When the former Ottsel raised his head, the old doctor sighed. "We just received the test results on your son. He had an acute case of meningococcal meningitis. It's a rare disease that children can acquire through during their earliest stages of life and then festers as they age. It's a bacterial affection that inflames the membranes surrounding the brain and spinal cord."

Daxter couldn't stand to look up him. He had said Lee 'had' meningitis. "What are you… what are you doing t—to save him!?"

"I'm sorry, but even if you had gotten him to us earlier… there's nothing we could have done." The doctor looked between them, the numb father and the grieving mother. That was all he saw. They weren't people. They couldn't be people, it would burn him out.

"No, no, no…" Tess whispered at his side, clutching Daxter' shoulder as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. "Please, no, please no."

"What are you saying… what are you saying!?" Daxter backed away from the doctor, as if doing so would stop the truth from reaching him.

The doctor hung his head. "Your son died… at eleven fifty p.m."

"NO!" Tess wailed and collapsed to her knees, pulling at her hair.

Daxter's back hit the wall and he began to tremble. "Lee… Lee… I promised everything would be alright! _I promised_!"

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Don't!" Daxter hissed, almost jumping into the doctor's face. "Don't stand there and say you're sorry! You don't know! You don't know what's it's like. Get out of here! Get the hell away from me!"

The old man backed away, looking very upset for these two people. He had seen people lose children before and he himself had lost a grandson to the Krimzon Guard. And he knew nothing could ever heal that scar, not even time.

"Daxter… Daxter, please," Tess whispered, still sitting upon the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes begging. She needed him to be strong, she needed him to hold her. She needed him more then anything right now.

He backed away, unable to stand it. He couldn't help her, he couldn't help Lee. Something inside him was broken, broken beyond repair. He couldn't even look at Tess in her face. Instead, he turned to the chair and slumped into it. He couldn't stand looking at Tess right now.

"Lee…"

**(To Be Continued)**

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AN: Okay, I understand. Let's all attack Lizzy! Destroy! Destroy! Sorry. I really hated to have to kill Lee off (he'd have made such a cool guy) but it was necessary. The reason Lee died is an actual disease that many children died from. At one point I looked at the statistics but I don't remember the numbers. Poor Daxter, I'm always mean to him and yet, his my favourite character.

**Act III:** Jak learns about Keira's 'condition', the Yoshimoro royal family is introduced, Nik is finally introduced, and Daxter and Tess begin to fall apart at the seams.

_Reviews:_

**Light-Eco-Sage:** Gee thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed Secret Origins. I hope I don't disappoint you with this one.

**FlutFlutLuver: **Exceeeeeeeellent! Keep on reading and you'll see just how good this story will get.

**Red Mage 04:** I'm trying to update this at least once a month, maybe more. I hate taking such a long pause from my work.

**Prexistence:** Well, after all those games of NOT getting together (sans Jak 3) it seems that they're both a little slow, no? But at least Keira's getting on her way. Go Keira!

**Hellmouth2:** I don't usually write sequels to stories (we don't have a very good relationship) but I knew that Jak III had to have sequel because I knew it was so far from over.

**Glorfindel Silverleaf: **It took me forever to convince myself to post this fic. I wanted this to be just right (since it's most likely to be the last major Jak fic I do) and I'm finally satisfied. Nik's character is about to introduced and there's no kidding he's one of my favourites!

**Lyzz2nwn:** I keep telling myself to update faster, but school is a hassle and with midterms I have had no time to do a whole lot of anything!

**Specter Von Baren:** I had the whole summary and stuff sent out to you but my old computer caught a virus and it was destroyed. Since then I have had no time to rewrite. I promise to send it to you as soon as I can.

**Maeieve Avvi:** Ah, you see that's what a like! A reader tries to guess my plot and then I get to crackle in a corner and god maybe. crackles Maybe…

_"Famous last words: so, you're a cannibal?"_

–Lizzy Rebel


	3. Divided They Fall

_Disclaimer:_ You shouldn't make fun of the poor… it's not nice

A/N: I'm trying to update this at least once a month (or more, if I can manage) but this thing is a bitch to edit. I love the freedom long chapters give me, but the downside is editing it. Obviously, I'm going to miss a couple of them so bear with me!

And this chapter starts out dark, hints at future darkness, and ends of a bit of a light note. See, Lizzy isn't all that bad, is she? Mostly bad, yes, but not all bad.

-

-

-

**Act III: Divided They Fall **

The phone jarred Keira from her sleep. Groaning in protest she tried to disentangle herself from Jak, who had twined their legs together and had a bare arm thrown over her chest.

"Just leave it alone…" he murmured into her ear, drawing her closer against him, licking absently on a lobe. "They'll go… away…"

"Jak, it's two in the morning," Keira pointed out, stifling a giggle against her hands. Jak looked so young with his eyes half-closed and his face relaxed in sleep, but his mouth was already set in a line of annoyance. It was funny.

"I know. See, the sun's not up yet." He pressed his face against her neck. "Just go back to sleep, Keira, and the noise will go away."

"Very tempting," Keira admitted and pushed herself against him. When Jak's arms relaxed and she gave another push, this time away from him. "But this could be important!" She reached over and picked up the phone before he could stop her. It was small, silver, and shrilling very loudly as she pressed it to her ear.

"Probably the paparazzi," Jak muttered in annoyance and flipped onto his stomach. "We're ignoring them now so they're gonna be bastards and call us at friggin' two o'clock in the morning."

"Hello?" Keira said into the tiny phone, ignoring Jak's rambles. "Ah… this Keira Mar."

"Keira…"

"Daxter?" Jak gave a low moan besides her and Keira slapped him on his shoulder before continuing in an annoyed tone of voice, "Daxter, do you realize what time it is?"

"Lee's dead." Daxter's voice on the other end was cold and hard. If it wasn't for the fact that Daxter had such a unique sound of voice she might not have even realized it was him. His tone was new and frightening. Like a demon had possessed his skin and all that was left of the old, friendly Daxter was fading to dust.

"What…?" Keira's mind instantly rejected the information and no matter how hard she tried it would not grasp at the meaning of those words. "Daxter… what did you say?"

"Meningitis. Lee had meningitis." Daxter didn't answer Keira's question. It seemed he was reciting practiced lines. "Nothing the doctor's could do. Tess… Tess is sleeping. They give her some pills. We're at Mar Memorial Hospital."

"Daxter… Daxter… I don't understand." Keira's mind kept circling around the notion of a little child's death. No matter what she did she could not truly understand the words' meaning. Perhaps her mind did so to block out the pain that would come upon her like a hawk if she allowed herself to comprehend.

"I gotta go…" Daxter said, his voice distant and weak. "I have to go… I gotta go see… my little boy. He's waiting for me. Tell… tell… Keira, will you tell Jak? I can't. I have… Lee _needs_ me."

"Daxter!" But the connection was gone. Daxter had hung up without another word to Keira or even the request of speaking to Jak. For someone who had always looked to the older man as a hero, a mentor, a safeguard, it was very frightening indeed to find the man forgetting completely about him.

"Keira?" Jak came up and encircled her waist, leaning his head on her trembling shoulder. He had heard enough to assume it wasn't something to be joyful about. He hadn't been able to make out Daxter's words, but his honed hearing had allowed him to filter through the pain and oddity of the tone of voice from his friend.

"Lee," Keira cried and turned into Jak's shoulders.

Memories rushed into her head, almost suffocating her. Memories of Lee smiling at her as he told an exaggerated tale of his day. Lee squealing with delight as his father entered the bar. Lee begging his mother for milk or snack and the look in his eyes that said he knew how to get just what he wanted.

Poor dead Lee…

"What about Lee?" Jak probed, stroking her hair but saying in a commanding voice all the same. "Tell me what happened, Keira."

"Lee's dead. Daxter said something about meningitis. Jak, I thought children didn't get meningitis anymore." Keira choked on her tears and her heart as it rose up in her throat along with the distinct feeling of nausea.

Jak wasn't sure how to handle it. He had been battle-hardened, life had pushed all emotion out of his system. Only Keira's love had manage to dig what little remained in him. A part of his body ached for Daxter, his best friend, and his loss, but a stronger put was already moving to remove it from his system.

"We have to go see them, Dax and Tess. They might need us." He drew himself away from Keira and reached for the clothes he had discarded on the floor hours before. Besides him Keira was also moving, but her motions were weighed down with the grief pressing against her shoulders.

They were in the hovercar within five minutes. Keira struggled to put on her shoes as Jak gunned the engine. In silence they drove to the Mar Memorial Hospital. Lights shone against the sleek paint of the car and against their grim faces, like a little demon trying to show them a truth they would have gladly hid from.

Jak glanced over at Keira and almost sighed. Her face was etched in pain, one hand cupping her stubborn chin and the other resting limply in her lap. She didn't say anything to give away her thoughts but her eyes were glowing liquid in the flashing lights as they passed overhead.

He wished, not for the first time, he had some way to comfort her, some way of telling her that he knew what she was feeling even if he himself wasn't feeling it. But he had long ago lost the ability to connect with people, even the woman he loved. He had no choice but to frown and stare ahead.

There was no way for him to soothe Keira and the aching spot deep within his chest.

-

They found Tess asleep in one of the hard, plastic chairs in the hospital. She was curled against it like a cat, her back arched and her hands cupped beneath her head against the back of the chair. Even with them closed, her eyes were puffy and swollen from her tears.

Without a word Keira bent down on her knees beside Tess and touched her shoulders with the tips of her fingers. Tess jolted awake and a look of raw, maternal fear flashed in her eyes. "Tess?"

"Keira…" Tess threw herself into Keira's arms as Jak stood at spot against the wall beside her. "Oh, Keira! Lee's gone! H—he's just gone. One moment he was laughing and smiling and the next… he's not! It's all my fault. I should've—I should've taken him to the doctor… I should've done something."

"Tess, there was no way to guess Lee had that kind of sickness. The flu had been going around… anyone would have assumed—"

"But I was his mother… I should've known, damnit! Aren't I supposed to have a sixth sense about my children or something?" Tess demanded, clenching her fists in an action that was uncommon to her.

"Tess… Tess… I don't know what to say," Keira admitted and was simply content to hold the young mother against her. What could you say to a woman that had lost her firstborn? A son that had lit up her life.

Nothing.

You could say, nothing.

"Where's Daxter, Tess?" Jak questioned softly, feeling like he was somehow violated a sacred act between women by simply standing there and baring witness to it. He was also worried about his friend. Jak had never figured Daxter would be one to bail out on Tess when she was like this.

The said blonde turned her head from Keira's shoulder and looked into his blue eyes. She bit her lip and answered, "He's—he's with Lee. He couldn't even look at me, Keira. I think he blames me. Oh, do you think he hates me?"

"No, no," Keira answered instantly, confident in her answer. "Lee was Daxter's new world, Tess. He just… doesn't know how to deal with the fact that his world has suddenly come crashing down."

"He was my world, too, Keira! How can Daxter forget that? I labored with Lee, I laughed with Lee, I loved Lee! He was my world. Daxter wasn't the only one that lost a son, Keira!" Tess pushed herself against Keira once more and continued to sob.

Jak moved from them without a word, unable to watch anymore. Just because he had no soothing words for Tess did not mean that his heart didn't ache to watch the blonde suffer.

He made his way down to the morgue. Since Lee was dead they would most likely keep him there, not wanting to fill a possibly needed bed.

It wasn't hard finding Daxter. He and Jak had been through much together, adventure after adventure, and in that way they had become intoned to each other. Jak followed his gut and his knowledge of Daxter to find the former Ottsel.

There was a lone man in the morgue, his shoulders slumped in raw defeat and his whole body trembling with suppressed sobs. In front of him was the still face of a small child embraced by Death.

"Daxter…" The said man didn't seem surprised that his friend was behind him, but he didn't turn to face him. "Dax… I'm sor—"

The man did turn to face him then, his eyes red and his face pale. "Don't Jak. Don't say it. I can take everyone's pity… everyone's expect yours."

Without a word, Jak took a spot by his best friend's side and looked down into Lee's face. He hadn't spent much time with the boy, but the few times he had Jak had been surprised by how happy and Daxter-like the tiny child had been.

But now that happy and light-filled child was motionless on a metal slab below him. His eyes—those brown eyes that had reflected so much Daxter that if you had just seen those eyes it would have been assumed Daxter had been cloned—were closed and a thin white sheet, only a shade lighter than the pallor of the boy's skin, had been pulled up to his neck.

There was no hint of the sickness that the boy had yielded to only hours before, but Jak knew from personal experience that a parasite could destroy someone from the inside without ever giving a clue to its presence. That was the most dangerous kind. One that could get past your defenses and you would only realize it after it was too late.

"It's so hard to believe, Jak… Lee was there then he just… wasn't…" Daxter lowered his fingers to his son's face, lingering there as if waiting for oxygen from the boy's lips to caress his fingertips.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted and it was the truth. Jak had never been good with words and now it left a bitter, useless taste in his mouth.

"Don't say anything, Jak. I don't want you to." Daxter didn't look up at him as he said it. He was transfixed by his son's face. "People will say enough for you. They'll say how sorry they are, but they won't really understand it. No one can. I'll… I'll hate them for it. I don't want to hate you, Jak."

"Come on, Dax," Jak said, the stench of death finally making his stomach rebel. There were so many people here and it frightened him. Any one of them could have been his friend. And one of them was his best friend's son.

"We're heroes, Jak," Daxter replied, unmoving. "Don't heroes get happily ever afters? We're supposed to have peace now. No more fighting, no pain, no grief. Why the hell can't we be happy?"

The bitter taste choked him, clogging his throat and cutting off his air. "I don't know, Dax. But you have a wife now and a kid who'll need you. Don't you care about them? They'll need you, Daxter."

"I can't… I just can't. I promised Lee everything would be alright, that he would be fine… and then he died. I'm nothing but a lair, a coward hiding behind a hero." Before Jak could protest Daxter was leaving the room.

The blonde hero looked down into the little boys face. Like Daxter had done moments before, he rested his fingers on the boy's face. "I'm sorry…" he told the boy and meant it.

_Why can't we just be happy?_

-

It wasn't long before Daxter's immediate friends knew of Lee's passing. Ashlin and Torn were the first to arrive, with a sleepy Ryu in tow. They offered Daxter their condolences and Jak had silently watched Daxter bit his lip until it bleed.

Sig and Samos arrived at the same time and they had managed to push aside their differences when they faced Daxter. Like everyone who would see the couple in the next few days, they apologized for their loss. Tess had accepted them out of politeness but Daxter had stood stonily in the corner.

The media came next. They had a field day. _Hero's Son Falls to Deadly Disease_ they had written. Jak had the urge to blow them to kingdom come just for the hell of it, but had restrained himself, telling himself over and over again that they were simply doing their job.

Two days later Lee had been buried. Tess had sobbed during the entire ceremony and no one had known how to soothe a mother's tears. Daxter had stood besides her, face cold and controlled, and he had offered her no shoulder to cry on or comforting words. He had said only a few words since Lee had died.

The skies had opened up and poured as Lee had been lowered into the dirt of Haven Forest. Daxter had asked the boy be buried there so he could be close to nature and the trees, a thing the boy had loved. A little plot of land had been donated years before in an act of good charity by Baron Praxis—mostly to gain the people's favour—and had since then been used as a graveyard for the people beloved by the city.

Keira hadn't stood with Jak. She had been with Tess, simply holding her hand, offering whatever strength the woman would be able to get from her. Keira's own lips had trembled, but it was impossible to tell if she had been crying. The rain drops had mingled with them on her cheeks and if she had been crying they were silent.

Now she was curled against him, muffling her sobs against his bare shoulder.

Jak ran his fingers through Keira's multicolored hair, the only soothing gesture he knew to give. Her lithe body was pressed against him and her fingers dug into the tough flesh of his back, but the pain was nothing but a dull twitch in the back of his subconscious.

"Keira…" He wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know what he could do. The two years of his life when he would have learned how to soothe his woman's pain had been stolen from him. "Tell me what to do."

"Jak, Lee was everything to them," Keira admitted, raising her head from his shoulder. "He was their world. He was so bright and wonderful and beautiful. Why would anyone take that away from them? What right did they have?"

"I don't know. It isn't fair, I know that. Nothing in this world is fair, Keira." He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "We were heroes, Keira, and we saved the world again and again, but even now we can't have peace."

"Jak… Jak…" Keira pressed her lips against his, drawing the strength he willing gave out. "Will it happen to us? Will we become like Tess and Daxter?"

"I don't want it to, Keira. I'll do everything in my power to keep it from happening. Tess and Daxter are falling apart at the seams. Daxter because he's bitter at the world"—so much like Jak—"and Tess because she thinks Daxter blames her for what happened to Lee. And in some small, selfish part of him Daxter does."

"I'm pregnant," Keira said suddenly, unable to keep the secret bundle up. "I didn't want to tell anyone because I was afraid of how Daxter and Tess would react, but Daddy and Sig know. I'm about three months now."

As Jak sputtered, struggling for an answer, Keira reached out and placed his large hand over her small stomach. His fingers felt a slight swell, a bulge that would have gone unnoticed for a few months if Keira worked to keep it hidden.

He wasn't sure how to answer her. Emotions that he had thought had died in him a long time ago arose. Protection, tenderness, love, joy. All these things attacked his still heart and threatened to overwhelm him. He gulped for air like a drowning man, trying to gain control over his raging emotions.

"I don't know what kind of father I'll make, Keira," he admitted after struggling with his inner demons, his breath panting. "I don't think I'll be a good one… but I'll try…"

"Promise me we'll do this together, Jak, and we'll figure out everything else later." Keira wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I promise," was Jak's answer from the dark. Keira sighed contently against his neck and slipped into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Jak stayed awake for hours, simply watching her. There was the little voice at the back of his head, biting him, reminding him of his duty, but he pushed it away and ignored it.

_You owe me, Jak_…

-

Tess lay on her side of the bed, arms wrapped around her torso, shivering but not cold. Daxter was on the opposite, motionless and still but not asleep. He hadn't slept since Lee had died.

_Oh, Daxter… what happened to us? It couldn't have been all Lee, could it?_ Tess asked silently as tears blurred her vision. She resisted the urge to give a long, deep shudder. She was afraid of disturbing Daxter.

Her husband wouldn't even look at her. It was as if he couldn't. Every time he looked at her did he see the murderer of Lee? Was that what she had become to him? Not wife, but enemy?

She pressed her fist to her mouth and bit down so hard on the soft skin that a trickle of blood spilled from the puncture wounds. She was numb to the pain. It was nothing compared to the wounds in her heart.

Daxter was aware of Tess's pain across from him and the part of him that was still Daxter was screaming at him to comfort her. But a stronger side had placed an iron wall over those emotions and refused to let him even move. All he could do was lay prone on the bed as he listened to Tess struggle with her pain alone.

_Why can't he just be happy?_

That was the question he had bitterly asked Jak and the answer still went unfound. He had always thought after they beat the evil of world, saved the city, rescued the girl, they'd be able to go back to being happy. Daxter had thought he and Jak would have a peace that had for so long eluded them.

But no, there always was this hideous little monster that chased them and ruined what happiness they had hoped for. Was this what they got for being heroes? Were they the penalties of war? Did they have to sacrifice their happiness for others?

Tess lowered her blood splattered hand and pressed it against her swollen stomach. Tear poured openly from her eyes, but she remained silent.

_Whatever happens, baby, we'll be fine, you and I. I'll do everything in my power to see you loved._ She swore it to her unborn child, maternal protection streaming through her veins. _You'll have happiness and you'll have my love. I promise_.

"Why can't we be happy?" Daxter whispered into the night.

Tess did not have an answer.

-

Hours after Keira had fallen asleep, Jak was still awake. He lowered himself as he worked slowly, gently to lift her shirt so that he could look at Keira's abdomen.

He pressed his hand against it once more. Perhaps it was the eco that flowed in his veins or his connection to ancient powers or the fact that he was a Mar, but he could feel the tiny, vulnerable life growing in her stomach.

"I'll protect you both," he pledged to the baby, even though it couldn't hear him. "I won't let anyone hurt you. I don't know if I'll be able to do anything else with you, but I can promise to protect you with my life… and I will…" A growl that was half Dark Jak worked its way up his throat. "If anyone tries… I'll tear them apart."

Jak rested his head against Keira's stomach, listening for any sound of movement. Of course, there was none, but being this close to a new life made Jak realize how important it was.

The power of life made eco seemed like nothing more then tiny sparks in a dark cave. Life was something that could give off enough light for an entire world. Eco was not the source of all things… life was and before he had not been aware of it.

_I created it…_ how could he, Jak Mar tainted with Dark Eco and still bitter at the world, make something as valuable and precious as life? What gave him the right? What right did he have to hold something as pure and wondrous as a baby, the very source of power?

He would protect this life with his own. He would cherish it. He would let nothing evil or dark or twisted mar it like he had once been. If anyone tried, he would decimate them. If his enemies feared Jak when he was simply mad then they would quake with fear when they saw him protective and mad.

"No one will touch you," he whispered.

-

"I have a job for you," Torn said.

Jak looked up at him, the tiny desk he had reluctantly agreed to have scattered with papers. He had a small office in a corner of Ashlin's palace, but he was never in it. He mostly came here to drop Wastelander information he didn't want or need.

The room was small, enclosed, and dark. He wasn't in it at night so he hadn't bothered with requesting for a light. But it did cast eerie shadows in the oddest places. Like at the threshold and anyone standing there.

Of course, it wasn't easy finding some paper he had _thought_ he didn't need, but then realized he did. Jak wasn't an 'office' type of person.

"Why am I not surprised?" he questioned and allowed the lined paper to fall to the floor, completely discarded. "Well, what is it?"

"We got some news of Metal Heads on the move. Of course," Torn paused, his face becoming amused. "They're probably running _away_ from the city, not towards it. But the people would feel better if you looked into it."

"Fine," Jak answered and squeezed passed him. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic. "What would you do without me, Torn?"

"Probably learn to survive on my own," Torn replied and as the blonde left said softly, under his breath, "Not that I want to…"

Jak hurried out of the palace, pleased to be rid of the place. Even though it had been in the possession of Ashlin for a good few years, it still brought back tense memories of his painful past. He knew Ashlin would feel guilty if she knew what flashed in his mind every time he had to journey too deep in the palace, so he kept mostly quiet about it.

Haven City was bright and bustling. It was hard to believe that a few years before this city of commerce had once been on the brink of a civil war. There had been a fine line between the people. On one hand there had been Torn and his rebellion, on the other had been Praxis and the Krimzon Guard, and the poor citizens had simply been collateral between the two.

Now the people were trying to forget. They had enough on their plates. There was no time to worry about what was in the past. There was the future to look to. Cities and new races were popping up all over the map and Haven City was being swept up in the wind of change.

Jak was one of those trying to forget the past. He had a family with Keira now and a baby on the way. The anger of his youth and the hell-bent rage that had consumed him had to leave him. He would not allow it to pollute his daughter… or son.

"Last mission," he muttered under his breath, "and then I'm asking for a break."

The baby was almost five months along now. Keira's pregnancy was beginning to show. Though the young woman had still worried about Tess and Daxter's reaction to it, Jak hadn't allowed her to worry too much. The doctor had said that stress on the mother would affect the baby as well.

Jak had been dragging Keira to the doctor's every other week for a checkup and it was trying heavily on the woman's patience. She hardly had gotten a single engine fixed and she hadn't been able to assemble her racing team for the next Season. Sig—the great, retired guy that he was—had offered to help.

Samos had also moved closer to them. He had bought a small house just outside the Race Stadium. Jak had agreed wholeheartedly with the idea. After all, Samos _was_ the sage of Green Eco so he knew a little bit about childbirth. Jak wanted someone to be on hand just in case something happened and they couldn't get her to the hospital.

There was only one thing marring this perfect life Jak had assembled for himself…

_Daxter…_

The former Ottsel was nothing more then a shell of his former self. His eyes lacked the light and laughter he had once had. He didn't speak of the young baby Tess would be having soon. It was almost as if he was afraid to, as if he feared even speaking about the baby would cause it to slip from his grasp.

Jak hadn't seen a whole lot of Daxter in the past couple of months. He was trying to pull some overtime so he could be with Keira as the baby entered its last trimester. The few times he had managed to swing by the Naughty Ottsel had been awkward. Jak didn't know what to say to his friend. He had always been able to soothe the young man, but now it was like Daxter had suddenly changed the path he had been walking and now was so far away from Jak that he couldn't even see him.

Tess had been nice enough, but she looked ready to break under the pressure both she and Daxter were putting on her. She was paler now and weighed down by her baby. It hurt Jak to look at her. She was so bravely clinging to the marriage and family that she had Daxter had created that she refused to admit there was anything wrong with it.

"Later…" Jak told himself with a shake of his head. "We'll figure this out, later." First, he would make sure nothing was wrong with Keira and the baby. He would help his friend after the baby was born.

The future was calling.

-

"Keira…" Tess smiled sadly as Keira entered the room. "It's been a while." The last time they had been each other had been a day after Lee's funeral. Keira had been hiding, afraid Tess would be able to tell she was pregnant.

Well, she was half way in her fifth month now. The media would find out soon and Keira wanted Tess to find out from her, not from the paparazzi.

"Sorry…" Keira winced apologetically. "Guess I've been afraid…"

"Afraid of what?" Tess's eyes trailed Keira's body, taking note of the glow on her skin and the slightly rounded look to her lower body. Then her eyes saw the small bulge on her stomach. "Oh…" There was a long pause from Tess and her hands went to her heavily swollen belly.

"I didn't want to tell you right after L—Lee's funeral," Keira admitted. "And then Jak wouldn't let me go anywhere until I made the doctor swear under Mar that it was perfectly fine for me to walk."

Tess laughed, but it was sad and dead in her throat. "Keira… I'm so happy for you and Jak… I really am, you know that right? It's just that—"

Daxter came down, rucksack over his shoulder. "Tess, I'm going back to the Bazaar. More haggling to do." He paused in his stride when he saw Keira standing close to Tess. "Hullo, Keira. You look… well…"

"She's pregnant," Tess answered softly, measuring her husband's response to it.

"That's…" Daxter's face fell for a split second before he was smiling. He pulled Keira in his lanky arms and gave her a fierce, brotherly hug. "That's great, Keira. Really. Tell Jak I'm happy for him."

"Thank you, Daxter. It really means a lot to him… _us_." Keira patted his shoulder, peering into his brown eyes. She searched desperately to find Daxter, her childhood friend and found… _nothing_. What she found was a man with a broken soul, unable to be repaired because he didn't want it to be.

"I have to go. You know, babe, duty calls. The merchants down in the Bazaar are fierce." Daxter turned to walk away, but stopped. Then, as if one a second thought, turned and pressed a small, neutral kiss to Tess's forehead. "See you when I get home."

When he was gone, Tess's face scrunched with tears. "He's been like that since… since the doctor said Lee was… gone. Keira, when he looks at me. He doesn't see me. He sees… I don't know what he sees. I don't know him anymore."

Keira took her elbow and guided her to one of the small tables in the back of the bar, pulling the thin curtain across the opening. "Tess… I'm sorry. I wish there was something I could do about… all this. It just doesn't seem fair."

"It isn't, Keira. Nothing is fair about this, but that's life." Tess bit her lip and pressed a hand to her swollen middle. "I know Daxter's hurting. Lee was his life, he was mine too, but we have another baby on the way. Why won't he see that? We can't remain in the past, mourning, and expect our child to have a future."

Keira looked away. The bar was so quiet, but it was still early morning. She knew soon it would be filled with people milling about, unsure of what to do. There were no Metal Heads or Krimzon Guard to worry about and this free time left people confused and oddly empty. She knew the feeling well. It had come to her. When she wasn't doing anything productive she would find her fingers inching for a gun, half expecting a Metal Head to rush in, roaring for battle.

"He'll come around, Tess." Even Keira's voice held a tinge of doubt. "He is Daxter, after all. Once the baby's born he'll see that there's still something he needs to look after."

"I hope so," Tess replied, her eyes vulnerable as she curled her legs under her chin. "I don't know how I'll… I'll do it… without him."

"I'll be there. Even if Daxter won't see what's under his nose, I'll be there for you, Tess." Keira reached out and ran her fingers over Tess's knuckles. "We'll stick together."

"I just hope nothing happens to you…" Tess muttered and her fingers tightened over Keira's. "You and Jak have been through so much. It doesn't seem fair that something would happen to your life… again."

"Yes. But… like you said… life isn't fair."

-

"You think this was a good idea?" Gareth questioned as he and Sala dismounted their horses. The high walls of Sage-Harmona loomed over them. They had been the first thing of the city to be erected. The city was, after all, a war city and its defenses were the first thing the royal family had resorted.

"The Yoshimoro family wishes for peace as much as we do," Sala pointed out as the large, brown gates opened. The heavy-armored soldiers looked down at them. Their faces were grim and trained.

"Well, yes, I know that. But coming here, just you and I?" Gareth glanced up at the soldiers as he and Sala entered. "Without Nyx or even some guards? Think that's wise?"

"The soldiers here are loyal to the family. They don't know anyone else. We needed Nyx to stay and look after the affairs while we left." Sale reached out and stroked his arm in a soothing manner. "You were never one to worry so much before."

"Yeah, but then I married you and I realized that you didn't worry half as much as I thought you did," was Gareth's reply.

Sage-Harmona was a city of shadows. Crea had told them that much. The towering walls surrounding the city cast deep, dark shades across the stone-covered ground. It seemed that the sun couldn't even penetrate the city. During its time Sage-Harmona had been called 'unconquerable' and many had thought that to be a simple and utter truth.

Then Sage-Harmona had gone up against Eris, goddess of Chaos.

A group of soldiers were waiting for them within the city walls. They were heavily armored. Blue plates covering their torso and heavy leg armor that wrapped around their calves made them seem like deadly sentential. Their faces were steady, trained, and grim. At one point they had held lances or spears or even swords at their sides or in their hands. Now each soldier totted a gun.

"Sala of Rye and Gareth of Luxhine? Rulers of the Holy City?" the soldier in the front spoke, voice clear and calm and commanding. There was a gold star embedded on his armor, but a helmet covered his face.

Gareth placed a hand on Sala's shoulder and answered in a voice as equally commanding, "Yes. And I take it you are the captain of the fleet?" He was, first and foremost, the leader of the Holy City's armed forces.

"I am," the man answered coolly, "Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi, the Arms General of Sage-Harmona."

Crea had told them of him as well. Nyx had a few choice words as well. He had come into power during the beginning of the war against Eris. His skill and determination had earned him high reputation among the royal family. Other than his war exploits, not much was known about him. Neither Crea nor Nyx had meet him personally—they had always been at Sage-Harmona at opposite times expect on that last deadly day—and so they had no comments on his morals, though Crea had said with child simplicity that if he was the leader of Sage-Harmona's armed forces than he had to be an alright guy. Nyx had, of course, said nothing.

"I hope… that you greet of us with peace…?" Gareth inched forward, positioning himself in front of Sala to protect her if need be. Gareth had grown up with the army, had trained in the army, had lived the army. He knew that this man was more suited for battle then negotiations.

Sala gave an annoyed sigh.

"The Supreme Leader Yoshimoro wishes us to so I shall." Gareth sensed the underlying challenge and it sparked a fire in his eyes but he kept quiet. "Follow me. We will take you to the palace."

"Don't do anything stupid," Sala warned against his ear as she pressed her palm against the base of his spine.

"Do I ever?" Gareth replied and they started forward.

Sage-Harmona was not a world of glittering towers and happy people as Gareth and Sala had been taught. It was a city of dirt and grit, hardened by the endless years of turmoil and war it had seen. The people who wandered the streets wore simple peasant clothes, built for durability and warmth. They were like the soldiers, silent and grim, the product of years of war.

The houses were designed to survive a bombarding. They were small, wide, and covered with heavy plates meant to deflect fire or anything else that might have been able to be thrown over the towering walls.

Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi led them to the center of the city, where the palace had been erected. It wasn't towering like Sala's or like the palace in Haven City. It was wide and long. Twisting towers rose from its sides but no one lived in them. They were there as a perch for archers—now gunmen, Sala supposed—to shot down on enemies if they breached the walls. From their point high up the enemies would be easy pickings.

Sage-Harmona was city built for war and yet here it was, on the brink of eternal peace. _How do the people handle it?_ Sala wondered to herself. Her own people had that problem. Their lives had centered around defeating Erisen and now he was gone. Their life's work was suddenly… obsolete. No one was quite sure what to do now, the Holy City was trying. They wanted peace.

But what did this city want? Their leaders, the Yoshimoro family, had expressed a yearning for peace, but this Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi seemed to have a different opinion all together.

The inside of the palace was simple, built for safety and not beauty. Sala wasn't very surprised. Sage-Harmona's palace was like every other part of the city, practical. She suspected there would be people within her city upset to find that Sage-Harmona was not some grand, shining city on a hill.

They were led down winding corridors covered in elaborate tapestries. The hallways were narrow so no large army of soldiers could walk in shoulder to shoulder. They would be forced to walk one behind the other, perfect targets for snipers.

The throne room of Yoshimoro was just as simple. It was a large room, but there were few decorations to it. A table on one side of the room and deep red carpeting beneath their feet. Two golden thrones were in the front of the room, ascending on a platform raised just slightly from the ground.

It came as a surprise to Sala to see that the royals were not sitting on the seats. In fact they were not even in the room.

Panic rushed over her and for a blind moment she thought _trap_ and she even felt Gareth tense at her side. But Kent-Sai moved past them and said in a considering voice, "I'll fetch them. Lord and Lady Yoshimoro are most likely otherwise preoccupied."

For long moment she and Gareth stood in tense silence, poised for the attack. It came as a shock to Sala that, even though she had been reared on stories of Sage-Harmona, she knew so little about them. They were more foreign to her than even Haven City. She knew nothing of the people, of the royal family. She only knew what little mythology had managed to trickle down the timeline to her generation.

Kent-Sai returned. "Announcing their Lord and Ladyships, Quintin and Ginyrina Yoshimoro."

As the soldier stood to the side and allowed Sala and Gareth a view into a small, darkened door at the side of the throne, two figures moved. One was a man with dark hair pressed to his pale brow and thick robes that resembled a Holy City mage. His eyes were dark and told of wars that had left scars not on the skin, but inside the body. He was not battle-hardened like the soldiers. No, war had given his eyes a wizen, almost sorrowful knowledge and it softened his face. He was not old, but neither was he young.

The woman on his right faired only slightly better than her husband. Her golden halo of hair had been pulled into an elaborate braid piled on top her hair, loose locks falling across the jade of her eyes. Her face was younger and had not been wizened with war, but her steps were heavy, as weighed down by some unspeakable burden. There was a tiredness to her that made her seem almost slow, sluggish.

Sala almost gasped for breath. _These_ war-torn people were the rulers of a city like Sage-Harmona? She had always imagined them as beautiful people, sitting upon a throne of gold, smiling down onto a shining city.

A part of her screamed for the loss of the childlike innocence that had shaped her image of Sage-Harmona and its royal family.

"I am sorry to keep you waiting, honorable and wise rulers of Holy City," the woman said in a voice that was light and soft, almost no louder then a whisper. "But my son required my attention."

For the first time Sala's eyes were drawn down to the tiny infant nestled in the crock of Ginyrina's arms. A dark blue, silk blanket had been pulled over the small frame. The child appeared to be asleep for he made no baby-like babble as his mother moved, swaying him in time with her arms.

Sala's heart ached at the sight. She too was a woman and like Ginyrina she knew the importance of children. A queen always knew. They were more than heirs, they were the one love they could give unconditionally. Sala had been lucky in marrying Gareth but not many in politics were. Sometimes love could not form between two people, no matter how hard it was tried. Only a child could be loved without strings and without thought.

"Do not trouble yourself. I do understand. He can be no more than a few months or so old. At this point you are a mother first and foremost." Her voice was polite and regal, different from the one she used around her own people. That voice was military, commanding. Here she did not have any power and she made sure she subtly let them know she knew that.

Ginyrina's smile told Sala that the older woman was pleased at her answer. Quintin answered, "The child is five months to this day."

"Perhaps it is too early to speak of these things, but when our son is named we were hoping that you and the rule—I mean commanders, forgive me—of Haven City be there at his ceremony. I know that it is years from now, but it would show a connection between the cities." Ginyrina's eyes gave away nothing of her true thoughts on the manner, but her voice was soft and soothing. Sala found the strange accent to be comforting, like finding a long lost sister.

"I would be… pleased to see the little one named. Though I cannot speak for Haven's governor I think she will be just as honored as I would be." Sala offered the woman a kind smile.

Ginyrina smiled softly and moved closer to her husband's side, allowing him to take center stage. "Well, Lady Ruler, shall we get on with the real reason we are all here? I think a peace treaty would be in our best interest."

"Yes. Gareth, my husband, will have to help you iron out the details since I'm not very well-trained in military truces." Sala nodded to Gareth, who had fallen silent behind her.

There was a small choked gasp from behind them and Quintin sent a glare over his shoulder. "General Hirmoyarbeshi, I will relive you of your duties. Bring General Yao to fill in."

Kent-Sai's face flushed with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and apology. "Yes, milord." He bowed stiffly, bending at the hips and then strode from the room.

"Forgive my general, Lady and Captain. Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi was raised to think that war was the only way to achieve peace. He is… _reluctant_ to settle with treaties and truces as we are." Quintin sighed and then put an arm around Ginyrina's thin shoulders. "But we have the children to think off. Before, I would not have been so willing to make peace… but I will _not_ see my son grow up surrounded by war."

Sala smiled at him, pleased. For a moment the tension in her heart released. Perhaps this was not as bad as she had first believed. If the Yoshimoros were so willing to make peace then she had no cause to worry.

Gareth stepped forward, wearing a grin that resembled Sala's. "Lord Quintin, I have several ideas for a military truce that will not take away our strength." Behind him, the throne room's doors opened and he heard the tell-tale _clank clank_ of armor as Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi's replacement, General Yao, walked in. Quintin looked over at the general once, nodded, and the man moved into the shadows.

Quintin turned his head back to Gareth and motioned for him to continue.

-

"Nothing…" Jak muttered in disgust and threw his binoculars to the ground. "A whole lotta freakin' nothing."

Dead Town was silent, but it wasn't surprising. The once thriving village was a silent sentential now, bearing witness to the changing world. Bitter memories pushed against his conscious, but Jak managed to lock them away. He was happy here, in this Haven City.

He crossed the murky waters of the Dead Town, heading for the stone, mechanical entrance to Haven City. He'd fill a report to Torn later, of course. It was only mid-afternoon so Keira was probably at the Race Stadium.

Torn wouldn't complain when he filled his report tomorrow. After all, Ashlin with Jak's thought that Keira shouldn't push herself if she didn't absolutely have to. The Governor had been ecstatic when Jak had told them both about Keira's status. Torn had offered his lazy shrug of disinterest, but Ashlin had offered him a true grin.

Ryu had been there and the boy had been very happy, though he hadn't quite understood this baby nonsense. Lee's death weighed heavily on the young boy, but luckily youth was resilient and Ryu had managed to return to his normal, thoughtful self. There were times when he got a faraway look in his eyes as he thought of his passed friend, but as he had said when Torn had questioned him on it: _Lee went to the better place. He is happy, Daddy. He likes flying._ And like every young child Ryu had managed to push the real hurt of the loss from him, unable to handle it at such a young age. It was an ability that Jak himself regretted losing.

Jak tripped on an uprooted trunk protruding from the ground and fell unceremoniously onto his stomach. A stream of vicious curses poured from him mouth before he managed to wire his jaw shut. It wouldn't do for him to curse in front of his kid, he pointed out to himself.

As he righted himself, something caught the corner of his eyes. Blinking Jak climbed to his feet and looked. It flashed against, a dark shadow racing across the ground.

His warrior instincts went on high alert. Unhooking his Blaster gun, he chased after it on silent feet, grinding his teeth with excitement. Finally, some action!

It seemed like a game of cat and mouse. Jak would only see flashes of it as it skimmed across the ground and whenever he thought about giving up because it had been gone for a long stretch of time it would appear out the corner of his eyes.

Eventually the chase led him to a small cliff overlooking Dead Town. Jak had never been here before and he couldn't remember it from his time in Sandover Village. But the overhanging did give him a clear view of the dead, murky town so devoid of life it was gray and barren.

"The hell…?" Jak wheeled around, the red laser of his gun aimed into the shadows. "Show yourself, damnit!"

The figure stepped out from the shadows. "Jak, Jak. I suppose you aren't a hero because you're polite, but still…" There was a teasing, almost mocking, tone in his voice. It sounded vaguely familiar, like meeting a distant relative after ten years of separation.

Jak's gun clattered to the floor, his body suddenly convulsing in protest. There was something wicked to this man, something that reminded him of Eris, the goddess that had held her chaotic sway over him when he had been Dark Jak and fighting for Keira's life.

The feeling of those cold fingers running down his cheek, leaving a scathing trail, had him dropping to his knees. No, this man was no Eris, but there was something… _chaos_ about him.

"We have to talk, you and I," the man said and smiled mercilessly, crossing his arms over his chest, dark hair falling over golden golem eyes.

The world gave out beneath his feet.

-

"That went… well," Gareth said in a surprised voice as he and Sala cantered out of Sage-Harmona. The doors shut behind them with an ominous _thud_.

"As I've said the Yoshimoro family wants peace just as much as we do, Gareth," Sala replied and angled her chin.

"Oh, I know it, but just because that is what a ruler wants does not mean that is what its people want. You saw that Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. He would have cut us down and started another war if he had been able to," Gareth pointed out.

"Yes, but he did not. The royals keep him in line." Sala sent him a glare out the corner of her eye. "If it is possible shouldn't I hope for peace?"

Without warning, Gareth pulled his horse to a stop. Before she could react, Sala was pulled out of her saddle and into Gareth's. His mouth descended on her and he pressed a hot, lusting kiss to her parted mouth. He kept his hand firmly on her cheek and neck if she had tried to pull away, but Sala simply melted boneless against him.

"I want peace just as much as you Sala," Gareth said against their lips. "You're the most practical, serious person I know, but your yearning has blinded you to one simple fact: there will always be someone who does not want peace, someone who will oppose it."

"Gareth, I…" Sala's eyes moved with emotion. She leaned against him, smiling softly.

"'Cuse me, folks, didn't mean to interrupt anything," a new voice called and Sala jerked her back around so she could look down at the owner.

It belonged to a young man, a little younger then Gareth and Sala. His eyes laughed and were shaded a deep, smoky gray. He was tall, going over six foot, and lanky with long arms and legs that supported his angular features and wiry frame. The most unique factor about the man was the tint of his hair. Deep red, almost blood colored, trailed down to his earlobes, curling at the tips.

His outfit was a bit odd as well. It was a mixture of a military uniform and civilian clothes. He wore a green leather shirt with a long v-neckline with the thick strings of the collar hanging down his shirt. His pants were thick and black and military, with the insignia in the shape of a Phoenix on the front of his pants. He wore large ridding boots that held his pants in place.

"What do you want?" Gareth questioned uneasily, resting a possessive hand over Sala's back. A short, militant sword was clipped to the man's back and the way he held himself reminded Gareth of a soldier used to giving orders.

"You're not from this city, are you?" the man asked with an earnest smile. "Good, 'cause I doubt she's here even. I'm looking for someone and I think she might be in…" Frowning, he faltered for the word. "…the… Holy City…?"

"We might be able to help." Refusing to flush, Sala slipped back onto her horse's saddle and sent the man a hard look. "Who are you looking for?"

"Her name's Nyx Urban. She's about yay high and has blonde hair and pretty blue eyes and a body to die for. Oh, better yet. She has a sister, Crea. A little on the crazy side, but an overall good kid." The man waved his hands in the air, smiling sexily. The angular planes of his face lit up and he looked terribly, sinfully handsome.

"She never said her last name was Urban," Sala muttered and felt oddly betrayed somehow. Sala had known Nyx had kept certain parts of her past from everyone, but she had thought Nyx trusted her enough to tell her about herself.

"Yeah, thought so. Girl's got a secretive streak as long as time." The man placed his hands on his hips and continued to grin. "So, you know her?"

"Yes, she lives in the Holy City under my command," Gareth replied and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know her?"

"Oh, we go _way_ back. Almost a thousand years. 'Course we're not on the best of terms right now… I plan to fix that."

"And just who are you?" Sala questioned and her horse moved closer to the man, who put his hands behind his head and laughed.

"I'm Nikolas Mandrake. Call me Nik. So, how 'bout a ride?"

**(To Be Continued)**

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A/N: Yes, I know. Nik showed up for just the tiniest bit. But this turned out to be longer than I expected so… um… sorry! All these chapters are turning out to be longer than expected! Look out, Jak IV is a monster! And yes, Jak is going to disappear for a while. Not sure how long just yet, but it'll be a bit… XD

**Act IV: **Torn tries to find a MIA Jak with Sig's reluctant help, the meeting of Nyx and Nik (and it ain't pretty), and Tess's baby is born… but is it enough to heal Daxter?

**Reviews:**

**CV:** it killed _me_ to have to kill Lee off, honestly. But if he had lived Daxter and Tess would have been to… happy. And that wouldn't have worked. I need them depressed and all angst. That why the baby can be… oooh, not gonna give it away!

**Light-Eco-Sage:** ehehe, I'd like to tell you it's gonna get better but… than I'd be lying! And Lizzy doesn't like to lie… sorta…

**Red Mage 04:** not promising anything

**Toboe's pup:** children are the ones who should _never_ die. So much potential in those tiny bones. That's why their deaths always stay with us, no matter what. Lee's death was written from personal experience…

**Hellmouth2:** and Daxter's got Jak, sort of. Daxter's in a dark place right now and he may not be able to get out. It almost too hard for parents to let go…

**Spector Von Baren:** maybe you do know what's going on! It's our secret! But Jak IV has been rewritten so maybe even a few things will surprise you!

**Whiskers:** there, there. I know. Sorry about the whole dark thing going on in the story… it's not pretty, but believe me, it's necessary…

**Glorfindel Silverleaf:** XD I'm not really sure who is my favourite character but it's definitely a toss up between Nik, Venn, and… awe! Can't tell you yet!

**amanda:** sorry, I hate to make people cry. But Lee's death is important for further plot development. That and there would have been too many OCs in the story. Just remember, Lizzy has no problem killing of her OCs. No one is safe!

**Lyzz2nwn:** I'm so glad you can find the time to review my work. It means a lot to me when I get over twenty reviews in the first two chapters! Don't worry about being dense, I've been surrounded by it my whole life and I still don't know how to handle it a lot of times…

**Maieve Avvi:** I like to theorize, too, even if I always turn to be wrong ;) And yes, it is going downhill and let me tell you… it's a long way down…

**Prexistence:** yes, 'you owe me' is just a tiny bit creep, no? It's meant too, but the way. And for you Secret Origins readers you might notice 'you owe me' is the very last line in the last chapter! (aka, hint, hint)

**Teh Kitsune:** I am mean. But I've come to terms with that… and I hope you continue to enjoy this!


	4. Then There Were None

**Disclaimer:** I own all three games… but nothing else… sad, I know

_AN:_ And now, because ya'all have been clamorin' for it, Act Four of _Jak IV: Penalties of War_. For those of ya who have guessed it… it's only going down hill from here…

* * *

**Act IV: Then There Were None **

Torn was not having a good day and so he was not in a good mood. It was easy to tell. The Krimzon Guard knew instantly and they steered clear of him. One little slip up and Torn would have them doing port duty—which consisted off _cleaning_ the dirty, grimy boats in the port… which was bad.

"Stupid, idiot, moron." No one was sure who Torn had been cursing all day, but whoever he was most people where glad they weren't him.

The illuminated Ottsel Daxter grinned over him and Torn had the urge to shot a bullet into its fake forehead. Of course, Daxter would be angry with him. Or maybe he wouldn't. Who knew with Daxter these days?

Torn felt bad for the Ottsel… er… _guy_ but his training hadn't allowed that sympathy to stay. He had other things to do, other things occupying his mind and worry for an almost friend wasn't a top propriety. Besides, Daxter was—despite Torn's reluctance to admit it—a hero. Eventually, Daxter would get back into the swing of things.

The Naughty Ottsel was buzzing with activity when he entered. The music was high and the people were in full swing. A very pregnant Tess sat behind the counter dealing out drinks while Daxter moved boxes and food to and fro. Some part-time waiters and waitresses moved among the crowd. Tess had insisted they be hired to help out with the work that a popular bar like the Naughty Ottsel required.

But Torn had already found his goal and everything else was moot. Pushing through the crowd he made his way over to a small booth in the back. Tess smiled at him sadly as he passed and Daxter gave him a nod of recognition, but there was no other friendly exchanges between them.

Sig sat in that booth, blue light shining on his civilian shirt and jeans. The man looked odd without his Wastelander armor, Torn decided, and he couldn't get pass the fact that Sig now had two eyes visible now instead of one.

"What's goin' on, chilly pepper?" Sig questioned and took a long swig of his alcohol. At Keira's request he came here often, whenever he could drag himself from the Race Stadium and looking after Keira. Tess needed the support, the emotional contact. Daxter was there for her, but he was distant, cold.

"I got a job for you," Torn replied as he slid into the bench opposite of Sig. He seemed to be saying that a lot now and it was pissing him off. He was a man after all, and he wanted to do these jobs himself.

But Torn was only _one_ man and he couldn't be at two places at once.

"Oh? Need I remind you I'm retired?" Sig motioned to the white shirt stretched over his honed muscles. "I only do racin' now. Unless you got a hankering for a new engine I'm afraid I can't help you, cherry."

"It's about Jak." Torn knew that would have Sig interested.

A dark brow rose as Sig questioned, just a tad to softly, "What about Jak, cherry?" His voice had a dangerous lit to it. Hinting at the power that had made Sig a top Wastelander in his day.

"You know about the mission he went on?" Torn questioned, undaunted by Sig's look and voice. Torn was a hardened warrior. Nothing could faze him, only the thought of Ashlin and Ryu being unsafe made him panic, and even then it was hardly visible.

"Yeah, Keira told me about it after he called her on his way about. Somethin' about Metal Heads in Down Town. Said it'd be a few days before he got back." Sig shook his head in disappointment. "I know he's the city hero and all, but I think Jak needs to get his priorities in line. What with Keira pregnant n'all."

"It was a reconnaissance mission," Torn pointed out. "Shoulda taken two days… tops."

"So?"

"It's been five."

"So what you're sayin', chilly pepper, is that you don't know where Jak is? He's just gone…?" Sig's voice lowered more, his eyes glittering dangerously in the lamplight. Any other man would have been trembling in terror.

"I'm not saying anything, just that Jak hasn't reported in at all." Torn crossed his arms over his chest and said with consideration, "I came ask you to see if you could find him. I'd go, but we got Metal Head movement out in the Wasteland. For all we knew he could have been just detained by some kamikaze Metal Heads but I'd still like to know that he's okay."

"I'll do it, but not for you." Sig pressed his cup into the table. "Keira would be crushed if anythin' happened to Jak. I dunno if she'd even make it out emotionally intact."

"Don't tell her about the search. Take some of the Wastelanders. They'd be willing to go with you to look for Jak." At least, he hoped they would be. "But don't tell anyone else. I don't want to cause a panic unless we absolutely have to."

"I wouldn't," Sig answered and stood. "But if somethin' has happened to, Jak, I ain't gonna be the one to tell Keira. This is all your doing, Torn. If there's a mess, you're gonna clean it up."

Torn stood, every lean inch brimming with rage. "Don't worry, _Sig_. I clean up my own messes." Face clenched with barely restrained anger, Torn turned and stormed from the Naughty Ottsel.

Sig finished off his drink and left a tip for the little waitress who had fearfully given it to him. Took a lot of guts to take the order of someone like him and he respected the girl for it.

Damnit, he was worried. And it wasn't just because of what would happen to Keira if something had happened to Jak. Jak was like a son—albeit a son he was more often fighting with than being fatherly to—and the city needed him. Loosing Jak, even in a peaceful time like this, would be a blow Haven City might not be able to rise up from.

He would start the search tomorrow. He was sure that the Wastelanders would be willing to help him even if they didn't care about Jak. They looked up to him, even at his retired status. And most owed him their lives. Wastelanders were people who took blood oaths seriously.

The house he resided in was close to the Race Stadium, though officially not in that sector. He wanted to be close to Keira, but at the same time not make it feel like he was pushing for a relationship. And if something was indeed wrong with Jak, Sig knew Keira would need both him and Samos nearby.

It seemed impossible to him that Jak could be harmed after all he had done, but Sig had to admit that the boy had a knack for running headfirst into things without thinking. The kid had a brain, but more often than not he chose not to use it. It may have been unlikely that Jak was in any serious danger, but it was all too probable that he was in trouble.

The house he entered was small. He didn't need much room. Sig only came here to sleep and sometimes eat. He was usually to busy during the day to ever really consider just how tiny his apartment was.

Sig didn't both with turning on a light. He stripped off his clothes and folded his big body in the small bed in the corner of the second room in the apartment.

"I really hope there ain't nothin' wrong with Jak," Sig grumbled and rolled onto his side, pulling the thick comforter of his bed over his shoulders. "Or I'm gonna kill him."

As the silence descended around him, Sig prayed to whatever deity listened that Jak was indeed fine. After all that the young man had been through he deserved a break. Jak risked his neck time and time again for a world that would have gladly seen him dead. Didn't that mean he deserved some peace? Did anyone had the right to take it away from him?

He didn't really know that, but Sig knew that if anyone tried to ruin Jak's peaceful existence he would fight them tooth and nail. He would see the boy happy and safe and settled down. Jak deserved that much.

"You better be okay, Jak," Sig told the darkness and didn't receive a reassuring answer.

&

Torn crawled into the plush, large bed he shared with Ashlin. It was dark in the room, the red of the sheets and carpets swallowed up by the black. Even the light of the moon offered a poor guide for him to travel by. Lucky enough Torn had been moving around the room for close to five years and had it almost memorized.

Almost.

He barely managed to bite back the curse of pain as his toe hit the hard, unforgiving wood of the end of bed. As he hopped on one foot in the darkness, trying to make as little noise as possible, Torn managed to settle himself on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his irritated big toe.

Last time he took his boots of before getting into bed.

He pulled off the undershirt that had been hastily pushed over his head that morning when Ashlin had told him about the decline in the weather. He tossed it across the room, deciding to risk Ashlin's anger at his messy habits than risk another toe injury.

When he slid into the soft covers of the bed, Ashlin's warm body was waiting. The silence of her breathing told Torn she was asleep, but he couldn't resist running his fingers across her shoulders.

Ashlin turned into his warmth without a thought, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Where were you?" Her voice was heavy with sleep.

Torn almost winced. He had decided that despite Ashlin's anger over it he would keep her in the dark on Jak's situation. She and Jak were close friends and he didn't want her worrying about him unless something really had happened to Jak.

He pressed a kiss to her hair and slid against her, pulling her curvy, giving body against his rough, hard one. "Nothing. Just had to check a few things out before coming back here."

"Hmm…" She was already half asleep, her head drooping onto his shoulder.

Before Torn could join his wife in sleep he became aware of movement in his room. His fingers instantly reached out for a gun that wasn't there. He kept his eyes trained on the shadow as it moved across the room.

It was Ryu and he came over to Torn's side of the bed and looked at him sadly, the emerald of his eyes shimmering in the pale moonlight. "Daddy, I can't sleep."

For a long moment Torn stared at him, unsure of how to answer. "Go back to bad," he replied gruffly, unsure of what else to do. When he had been younger he had never slipped into his parents' room.

He had never had parents.

Little Ryu bit his lip as he began to tremble. "But I… I'm afraid of the dark, Daddy."

"Ryu…" Torn groaned in annoyance. Afraid of the dark? That was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. The dark was an ally, it could protect you in ways the light never could. Darkness cloaked you while light revealed you.

Next to him Ashlin shifted and awoke. "Come here, Ryu." Without another word Ryu climbed up onto the bed and settled into his mother's arms, drifting to sleep.

"Torn," Ashlin said softly once Ryu was completely asleep. "He's just a little boy. It's alright for him to be afraid of the dark."

"I never was," Torn pointed out. It was true. He had learned earlier on that if dark was anything it was an ally. It could protect you from the Krimzon Guard or the Metal Heads. There were no monsters and evil in it. There was only safety.

"He's different than you and me, Torn," Ashlin replied. "He doesn't have to fight Metal Heads like we did. He can be afraid of the dark."

It made his heart constrict with emotions to think about it. Yes, his children would never have to be afraid of Metal Heads again. They would never know real terror like he did. And for that he was glad.

Hesitantly he reached over and stroked Ryu's mop of messy auburn tangles. He didn't show his son affection often. He wasn't sure how he could do that. Even when he had been a little boy Ryu's age he hadn't worn his heart on his sleeve. He had locked it away, afraid of breaking it. But Ryu was not a child of war, he was not a product of war. He was Torn's son and he would not know war.

_Mine_, he thought with a sudden possessive feeling. He reached out and took Ashlin's hand and heard the same thought reverberate through his head. Yes, they were both his now. He would do what he had to do to protect them. Ryu would never have to fight in a war, not as long as he breathed.

_Whatever happened I promise I will see Ryu and Ashlin safe_, Torn swore softly as he felt Ashlin drift into sleep besides him.

Holding his woman's hand and his son between them, Torn feel asleep.

&

"They're coming! They're coming!" Crea shouted exuberantly, waving her arms in the air. She took the steps of the observatory tower two at a time. "Nyx! Gareth and Sala are back!"

She had seen them coming down the streets of the Holy City at a lazy pace in the small, golden spyglass the mages had given her. It was the only they didn't think she'd break. She couldn't, they reasoned, since the spyglass was bronze.

Well, she proved them wrong since as soon as she had seen Gareth and Sala coming back to the palace she had accidentally dropped the glass out of the window. She had heard it shatter against the hard pavement below.

So now she was off to find her golden haired sister and tell them the news. Since both Gareth and Sala had left, Nyx had been left in charge. The girl had taken her duty solemnly while Crea had cheered and done her 'I'm the leader' dance.

The said golden soldier was propped against the wall, her eyes closed from exhaustion. With Sala and Gareth gone she was being constantly bombarded with questioned by the Holy City residences, the mages, and even the newly reborn people of Sage-Harmona.

Crea skidded to a halt, almost tripping but managed to grab Nyx's pants to keep balance. "Nyx! Guess what! Guess what!"

"Can't you just tell me?" she complained instantly, rubbing her temples.

"Sala and Gareth are back!" Crea waved her arms in the air, giving a whoop of happiness. She swung herself into the air with abandon and Nyx made no move to chide her for it.

"Thank the Goddess," Nyx muttered and with revived strength pushed herself from the wall.

Nyx's strict, harsh stride was balanced by Crea's carefree skip. Now that Crea was aging into womanhood the similarities between them were striking. Crea's face almost matched Nyx's completely, save for her baby fat around her cheeks and the upturn of her nose and plump of her lips. Her hair was almost as long as Nyx's, but it was shades lighter and straight as a board.

When they reached the entrance to the palace Crea stopped short. "Hmm…" For a split second Crea remembered the young man she had seen with Sala and Gareth and a memory flashed across her mind.

Then she realized how far ahead of her Nyx had become.

"Nyx! Wait for me!" Forgetting what she had seen, Crea scurried ahead.

The soldier didn't stop until she had passed the door to the castle. Her sister waited impatiently by her side, bouncing on her heels and humming a tone to herself. Nyx was concentrated solely on the two horses coming closer and closer to her.

She offered respectful nods to both Sala and Gareth, but when she saw who was riding on the horse with Gareth her mouth hung open and she couldn't seem to drag her eyes away… horror and excitement entwined.

Nikalos Mandrake—or Nik as he told everyone to call him—had been taking in the scenery of the Holy City. It really was something. It wasn't harsh and overbearing like Sage-Harmona, a planned city. This was a clutter, a mess of people banding together to survive the harsh of life. There was glass here for decoration and than brick for protection and wood for warmth.

Gareth had been proud as he had explained the Holy City's unique religion and culture with Sala chiming in. Nik had not been so surprise by their pride in their city. In fact, he had hoped for it. As rulers they should have that love and duty to their city.

But somehow it all dimmed when he finally saw Nyx Urban standing in front of that crystal palace.

He had known she was in the city the moment it had come into his honed eyesight. Something inside him had just _known_ he would find her there. He had been revived for two years, waiting for any sign that she was in Sage-Harmona. When he had finally come to terms with the fact that Nyx was not in her city he had decided to go and look for her. As luck would have it their Lord and Lady ships Sala and Gareth happened to be leaving at the same time.

Nyx had not really changed in all the years they had been separate. She was still the serious, golden warrior he knew but her face had hardened, matured. She was true woman now.

It made a grin—well most people would call it a smirk, but that was how Nik grinned—come over his face. The armor she wore bounced the sunlight onto her face and it was all he could do not to hop off Gareth's horse and sweep her into his arms. She was so damned beautiful and it made the memories of their time together wash over him. It made his smile widen.

He had jumped off the horse in his fluid, graceful way before he realized Nyx was glaring at him. It made his eyebrow rise in confusion. In mock surrender he held his hands out in front of him. "What?"

Nyx crossed his arms over her chest and her eyes narrowed farther. Sala gave a small bark of confused laughter. The girl had always been cool and collected around everyone else but Nikalos Mandrake had her enraged and ready to kill. And by the arrogant, cocky grin on the man's face he knew it.

Undaunted by the hostile look on Nyx's face Nik swaggered over to her, every inch the ladies' man he had once been proclaimed to be. "Been a while, beautiful." He reached out to touch her shoulder, but Nyx jerked it away without removing her crossed arms. "Now is that anyone to greet an old friend?"

Before Nyx could open her mouth to retort Crea was flying into his arms. "Nikey! Oh, Nikey! You finally came!" She pressed a noisy kiss to his cheek.

Nik laughed and swung Crea in the air. "See, Nyx?" he asked when he placed the golden child back onto the ground. "You could take some lessons from your little sister on greetings." In earnest consideration he tapped his finger against his bottom lip. "'Course, I'll forgive me if you give me a kiss."

Crea clapped her hands to her lip in childlike delight. "Oh go on, Nyx! Give Nikey a kiss! You haven't seen him in _sooooooo_ long!"

For a long moment Nyx glared at him. Anyone else would have been backing down, almost frozen by the hard glare, but not Nik. He continued to grin and placed his hand on his hips, arching his back backwards.

Then Nyx wheeled around and strode back into the palace without a word. Crea called after her, but the young woman would not answer.

Sala approached Nik with wide eyes. "I've known Nyx for a long time now, but I've never seen her so worked up before…" She wondered why Nik had such an effect on the girl. For all that Nik seemed open he could certainly be closed mouth about some things. In fact, other than his name she had learned nothing about Nik personally.

"Yes," Nik said with a long-suffering sigh. "Nyx is one hard nut to crack and I mean that in the most wonderful way. Such a challenge that one. But I like her that way. You never really understand how the girl ticks until you get under her skin and that's very, very, very hard to do. Lucky for me, that's a talent I seemed to have acquired during our first meeting."

_"Well, well," Nik had drawled, a soldier and well trained at it. He knew it, too. "What do we have here? Aren't you a little young to be a soldier?"_

_Nyx gave a cool like that hinted at the rage growing underneath, but she kept it locked and controlled. A very soldierly thing to do. "Oh… and you're so old?"_

"Nikey!" Crea said, drawing his attention down to her. "Now that you're here I can go look for Venn!"

_Venn_… it send a low punch to Nik's stomach to think about the young boy, but Nik kept his face smiling. "Oh? And how do you plan to find him?"

"Magick," Crea giggled and then freed herself from his arms, scurrying after her sister.

Nik watched her go with humor sparkling in his smoky eyes. "It's good to see Crea hasn't changed. Always was a few swords sort of armory, if you get my drift."

Sala came up his side and tilted her head slightly, her dark locks falling across her creamy face. "You know them very well, don't you?"

He shrugged carelessly, blocking all those emotions that threatened to emerge. "Well, Crea and Nyx were my only family until…" he paused and then finished, "they just always were."

Gareth sent his wife a look and she nodded her head in agreement. She decided not to grill Nik just yet, however. "You grew up in the reign of Sage-Harmona, correct? I think I would… _love_ to hear about it."

"Very well," Nik answered as he clasped his left wrist behind his back with his right hand. Military pose. "I am at your service." His eyes remained playful.

From a tower above them, Nyx watched with a stony face.

&

"This is Sig. Any sign?"

"None… sir. We've checked the south… and there's… twice now. There's not even a footprint that… have belonged to Jak." The voice was crackling over the intercom, breaking here and there. No, Dead Town was no a good place to catch radio signals.

Sig sighed in annoyance and bent down to eye the murky waters of Dead Town. "Come on, chilly pepper, where are you?"

Silence answered him. Well, that was great, wasn't it? There was no sign of Jak anywhere in this forsaken town. No footprints, no guns, no signs of struggles.

In annoyance, Sig rubbed the back of his neck. If Jak was alive and well… he was going kill him. Keira would have a fit, no doubt, but he was sure he could get her to come around. And after he explained how Jak just disappeared she might do the honors for him. That Keira was a tough cookie.

Absently, Sig kicked a pebble into the dirty water, watching the ripples move across the surface. It was hard to believe this had once been a thriving village. Daxter had told him about how he and Jak had to get a power generator working for the Mayor of the village, risking life and limb in the Forbidden Jungle. All so the old fart would give them a 'power cell'.

Sig had snorted in disbelief. He shouldn't be surprised, but he was. Jak and Daxter and Samos and Keira were _really_ from that far back. No one used power cells anymore. They were insufficient. They used eco now.

"Roderick," he said into the communicator, "call the search off. We'll resume tomorrow."

"… yes… I… sir…" the static replied filtered through his earpiece.

Sig had been surprised when so many Wastelanders had offered to go on the search for Jak with him. They really did respect Jak and that said a lot about a man's character. Wastelanders were tough, battle-hardened, and much, much older than everyone else. When someone like Jak had enough respect from them to drop what they were doing and look for him it said something. It said a lot.

It said Jak was a damned hero.

And he wondered how he was going to tell Keira.

"Not. My. Problem. That," he bit off. "Torn's gonna have to do. He's the one that set Jak on this stupid job."

Blind rage shifted through him, Torn as the recipient. It wasn't that he was angry with Torn—it was Jak's job and he had always taken car of himself before—but rage was easy to understand than worry and it was really worry that coursed through him, finding an outlet in rage.

Jak had to be okay. He just had to. Sig wasn't sure what he would do if Jak wasn't. And it wasn't all because Keira would be damaged. Jak had become like a son to Sig. He didn't say it at all, he never told Jak, but Jak had become very important to Sig. Jak had brought Sig together with the daughter he never knew he had, he given him something to fight for, a new belief in life.

Suddenly there was movement out the corner of his eye. Sig didn't think it was Jak. Jak didn't move that fast, Jak wouldn't try to be so quiet. He spun and cocked his gun, listening.

Silence surrounded him, teased him, and Sig knew it was merely the calm before the fatal lunge. He breathed on his gun, a Wastelander tradition, one that was supposed to bring good luck.

The Metal Head lunged, its dark eco-infested face twisted in an angry snarl. Its gnarled claws were raised in the attack and it was going for his neck.

Without flinching Sig raised his gun and pulled the trigger. The Metal Head fell in a heap on the ground, a pile of smoking, twitching limbs.

Sig walked over to it and kicked it with the tip of his boots. The Metal Head whimpered, clutching its chest, and curling into a ball. Second later it ceased to breathe and the world had one less Metal Head in it.

"Odd…" Sig muttered and moved pass the Metal Head. Metal Heads, as a rule, traveled in groups. The smallest Sig had ever run into was about five. By staying in groups it was dangerous to hunt Metal Heads and it was easier for them to track down prey.

So why was this Metal Head all alone?

It was possible that he was a straggler who stayed behind to see if there was anymore food to pick up. Still, a Metal Head would not choose to be alone. He would have a partner with him.

Sig pushed away the brush the Metal Head had jumped out of. There was a small nest which meant the Metal Head had been camping there for a day at least.

But that wasn't what caught Sig's attention. It was what was _in_ the nest. Yellow outlined with the same color for bullets. The long length of the gun, the black color, was stark against the deep green of the nest.

_A blaster gun…?_

He picked it up and felt the tiny insignia on the butt of the gun. It was in the shape of Mar's chest. There was no mistaking the long twists and twines of the symbol. Only one man carried a gun that bore the mark of Mar.

Jak.

And Jak would not be anywhere without his gun, not by choice, not with Metal Heads around. If Jak did not have his gun, then that meant his was in trouble.

Many scenarios circled in Sig's head, but only one stuck. Jak was missing, he was without his gun, there had been a Metal Head group nearby, and one of them had stayed behind.

It was obvious to someone like Sig. The lone Metal Head he had killed must have been a scout, making sure no one followed the group as they escaped into the desert—which was where the larger Metal Head nests were located.

Jak must have been in trouble. It wasn't like him to be overtaken by Metal Heads, but it was possible that he could have been dragged off into the desert. If that was the case, then he would need backup.

"We need to find him," Sig muttered. "I'll keep it from Keira for now. Tomorrow we'll go into the desert. He'd better be alive."

But something was wrong about the whole thing. Metal Heads did not take hostage. They killed and they killed fast. If Jak was without his gun then…

"Damnit Jak," he muttered and made his way back to the safety of Haven. "You'd better be alive."

&

"What do you mean 'you don't know where he is'?" Torn demanded, slamming his fists down on the hardwood of the table.

Sig didn't flinch. In fact, he glared into Torn's fiery gaze. "Exactly what I meant. We've been looking out in the desert for the past two weeks! We ain't found nothin'!"

"What are you saying?" Torn kept his voice low. Ashlin and Ryu were in the palace and he knew if he shouted they would hear. Ashlin did not know about Jak. Not yet, but it was starting to look as if he was going to have to tell her.

"I'm saying… that if Jak's alive he's nowhere near here. And you know that Metal Heads don't take people alive. He's probably…" Sig choked but clenched his fists and continued, "he _is_ dead. We can't find a body and he's probably so far down in a Metal Head nest that we probably never will. Damnit, Torn!"

"Are you saying this is my fault?" Torn demanded. "Do you think I expected Jak to… to… _die_ on this mission? It was a simple reconnaissance mission."

"No, I'm not saying it's your fault." Sig unclenched his fists and sighed. He was too weary, too upset, too _drained_ to fight with Torn. "I'm just saying that we have to look at the brutal truth."

"A state of panic… that's what this damn thing will cause." Torn gave a groan of disgust and slumped into a chair, lowering his head to his hands.

"… I ain't worried about those Haven weaklings." Sig ignored Torn's heated glare. He was after all a Haven resident. "What are you going tell Keira?"

"I don't know, Sig. I'll… I'll figure something out." Torn cursed and rapped his knuckles on the table. "First I gotta tell Ashlin. She's gonna _kill_ me for keeping it from her." He had just never thought Jak would wind up dead.

Ashlin would be more than just angry. She would be upset. Jak had meant something to her, the symbol of everything she was trying to do. Her hero. Torn was her husband and he had her heart, but it was Jak that had her admiration. He didn't know if he would be able to console her when she found out that Jak was dead, dead, dead, dead.

Torn didn't even know if he was okay. After being cut off from his emotions from so long he wasn't sure how to handle this _ache_ deep down in his bones. It was sadness and he knew that, but he wasn't sure how to handle it. Torn had cut himself off from his emotions to survive the harsh times of war and now that his heart was open it was bleeding. He did not know how to make it stop.

Jak had been a friend, a good friend, even if Torn would never admit it.

"No, I'll do it," Sig said on a long sigh and he, too, took a seat. Opposite from Torn. "I won't have anyone else do it. I think I always knew I would if Jak did… did… turn up dead." He had just hoped and hoped and hoped that it would never come to this. Jak wasn't supposed to die.

Jak was a hero, he had saved the world countless times. After they saved the world heroes were supposed to live happily ever after. Jak should have been settling down with Keira and starting his family.

Didn't Jak deserve happiness? Didn't Keira?

"I'll tell Ashlin, right now. We have to figure out how we're going to let the people know. They'll panic." Torn looked at Sig as the gears in his head turned. "You tell Keira first, let her brace herself. The press is going to hound her… and the baby."

"I know, I know. I'll handle it, chilly pepper." As if his mass had suddenly become too heavy for him to support he disentangled from the chair and got up slowly. His eyes were sore and weary and he was starting to look his age, the wrinkles beginning to show around the corners of his mouth.

Once the former Wastelander had left the room, Torn pushed himself from the chair. Ryu was in the playroom, enjoying new toys the nobles had showered on him, and in all likeliness Ashlin was there as well.

The playroom was in the west of the palace to enjoy the sun. It was the brightest room in the palace, painted with reds and greens and blues. The carpet was short and tough, meant to endure romping, and toys made it seem like a war zone.

Ryu played in the center, holding a miniature hovercar in his chubby toddle hands. He slashed in the air, it hovered over a Krimzon Guard base, and then took to the air once more. Ryu made little noise in his throat, lost inside his own world.

Ashlin sat at a small desk in the corner of the room, papers spread out before her. She had put the desk in the room so she could be close to her tiny son, but still complete the necessary work of governor.

For a moment Torn stood at the threshold and watched them both. Ryu reflected so much of his mother and yet Torn was there as well and so was the gentle woman of the Praxis line he didn't know. It seemed so perfect and Torn wondered how the hell he got lucky enough to have all of this.

Before he would have chalked it up to the fact that he had given up so much for Haven City, he earned the title hero. He would have said he deserved this. Payment for all the sacrifices he had made, Ashlin had made.

But Jak was dead and if anyone deserved happiness wasn't it Jak?

Now he was rethinking his position on the question and the thoughts floated in his head, around and around, almost making him dizzy. He knelt down besides Ashlin, deciding how he would tell her.

"Torn?" she asked as she took notice of him, her eyes narrowed with concern. She knew this was unlike him. "What is it?"

"Ashlin, there's something I have to tell you," Torn admitted and reached for her hand, adding pressure to it. "Jak…"

&

Tess heaved a tray into the air, her whole body groaning with the energy it took. The baby was kicking so hard that it left her entire body drained.

She patted her swollen abdomen once for reassurance. "You are worth it," she told the baby. There was a sharp kick, a tiny foot digging into her ribs. Tess gritted her teeth and almost dropped the tray to the floor. It was covered in glasses and food so it would not have been such a good idea.

A strong hand lifted the tray into the air, from her hand. Tess frowned and then blinked when a kiss was pressed against her forehead.

"Careful, sweet cheeks," Daxter said in a slightly chiding voice. "Doc said no heavy lifting." He smiled into her face.

"Thanks…" Tess replied and watched as Daxter slide over to the bar, slipping behind it, and placed the trey's food contents into the trash. Then he began to wash the tray and glasses, all the while singing a song.

Tess frowned. Daxter had been like this for over a month. He was polite, kind, caring, a wonderful husband. But he was cold, distant. Tess felt it every time he looked at her. He had built a wall around them, blocking him from her.

No one watching Daxter would notice. Tess thought only Jak and herself would notice the cold, aloofness Daxter now presented to people, she being his wife and he being his best friend. It was so bitter and it made a sour taste swell in Tess's mouth. It felt like he had cut himself off from people entirely.

Tess wished Jak would step in every now and then. She thought having his best friend around would really help Daxter regain his former carefree attitude, but Jak hadn't been seen around the Naughty Ottsel for almost a month.

Perhaps he couldn't deal with Daxter's sudden change in attitude. Tess couldn't say she blamed him. There were times when she wanted to shake Daxter and demand he look and see that he still had a family that needed him.

What would happen to the baby that grew inside her? How would Daxter act around it? Would he be to the baby like he was to Tess? That was unfair. The little life inside her had nothing to do with Lee's… Lee's… _passing_.

Tears tightened in Tess's throat. Oh, her little baby boy! How could she lose him without even the chance to fight for him? She should at least be able to fight for him, shouldn't she?

_For Lee_, she thought as her hand went to rest on her stomach, _for Lee I'll raise this baby with all the love and care I can._

As if in agreement the baby gave one mighty kick. It contract Tess's stomach and she gave a low moan and dropped to her knees. Daxter was at her side instantly, gripping her arms.

"Tess?" he demanded and held her against him, his whole lean body shaking with worry and fear and overwhelming emotions. "Tess, what's wrong?"

"The baby," she rasped and watched as fear filmed over Daxter's eyes. She knew what he was thinking and gripped his upper arm. "No, Daxter. I think… I think… I think I'm _having it_."

"The baby?" Tess nodded and gave another moan as there was another pain tightening in her womb. "Quick, we have to get to the hospital!"

&

Daxter had watched Lee be born and he had passed out, all that blood and bodily fluid and smells. Watching his new child be born did nothing for him. He was numb to it. Even Tess's screams failed to reach his ears. As she clenched his fingers to the point of breaking them he felt nothing.

There was so much blood, but Lee's birth had split more. The labor was smooth, taking no more then eight hours. Tess's face was clenched with concentration as she struggled to bring life into the world.

The screams filled the air. Daxter couldn't help comparing them to Lee's. Lee had whimpered, gave a small shriek, and fallen asleep. This child gave a long, heart-wrenching sob, screaming at the world that she was born and that it had better damned well pay attention to her.

"It's a girl!" the doctor shouted.

It was a tiny, tiny thing with kicking legs and waving hands. It's little, wrinkly body was covered with the blood of her mother's labor. The baby girl's face was clenched in rage and it was red from the energy it took to give such screams, drawing them from the very depths of her lungs.

Tess was crying as well, from the pain and joy of life making. Her face had a sheen from her sweat but the smile covered from ear to ear. Weakly she held out her arms. The little, bloody thing was placed into them.

"My beautiful," she cooed and touched the child's nose with the tip of her finger. The babe gave another long, painful yelp and settled against her mother's chest. "My beautiful, wonderful girl."

Daxter looked at her, at the thin little baby body, the hands resting on Tess's heaving breasts. Something inside him tightened and he had the urge to take her from Tess's arms and cradle her. His little girl. She was his. Like Lee had been.

But she was so tiny, his hands were so big. He would crush her. He would destroy, his daughter, his flesh and blood, if he reached out. He had crushed Lee… and Lee was dead.

"Maelia… we can call her Maelia… our little Mae-Mae," Tess whispered into the sleeping child's face and she whimpered at the disturbance. "What do you think, Daxter?"

"Maelia," he agreed and backed away. He couldn't touch her. She was too tiny, his was too callous. He would just hurt her. Crush her tiny, frail bones in his hands.

"Do you want to hold her?" Tess held the newly named Maelia out to Daxter, like an offering. It was true. Maelia could be the thing that bonded them together, that kept the family from falling apart.

Or she could rip the already frayed seams.

"I—I _can't_." Daxter made a dash for the door, his heart expanding against his ribs, threatening to burst from his body. "I _can't_."

Tess lowered Maelia to her chest, holding the child so tightly that she awoke and started crying. The mother rolled onto her side and kissed Maelia's sobbing face.

"No worries, my darling. I promised you before and I'll promise you again. No one will hurt you. I'll love you, Mae-Mae…" She turned her head and looked at the spot where Daxter had been standing moments before. "I'll love you enough for the both of us."

But would anyone love her?

&

News reached Keira fast. Faster than she had expected. When Lee had been born Keira was called by Daxter from the hospital almost a day after Tess had gone into labour.

Tess was the one that called her, though, and she was hysterical. "Please, please. I just had my Maelia and I… I need… _you_," she had sobbed over the phone.

"Where's Daxter?" Keira had asked.

"Please come here, Keira. Please." Then Tess had hung up. But her sobs had haunted Keira as she dressed and drove herself over to the hospital. She had considered calling Sig to drive her, but he had been doing this mission with Jak—he had told her after Jak was two days late in coming home—and she didn't want to disturb his much needed rest.

It wasn't hard to find Tess. There weren't many babies being born. Including Tess, there was only three. Everyone seemed so busy with this new world they were being integrated with that there was no time to start families or worry about their children's future.

Keira walked into the bland white room and saw Tess sitting in the center bed. She was awake but looking at the tiny window, black filled with the night, and had a tiny little baby nestled in the crock of her arm.

"Oh, Tess…" Keira whispered in awe and her own hand reached down for her rounded stomach. "She's beautiful."

In surprise, Tess looked up and Keira saw that her eyes were filmed over with tears, threatening to fall her already stained cheeks. "Keira… Daxter he won't… he won't look at her. He won't _look at_ our baby daughter. He won't."

Without another word Keira approached. Tess made room for her on the hospital bed and Keira lay next to them, looking into the small face of Tess's daughter. Maelia. So beautiful, so fragile, so tiny.

"I'm so sorry, Tess," Keira said and really didn't think sorry cut it. She hadn't realized how damaged Daxter was from his son's death. What would she do if Jak wouldn't look at the child she carried?

And she wished Jak was with her right now, she would feel stronger if he was, or that he was chasing after Daxter to smack some sense into him.

"Whatever happens, Tess, we'll look out for one another, understand?" Keira stroked Tess's hair, a mixture of sisterly and motherly gestures. "We're the wives of warriors. We have to be strong… because our husbands might not be there for us."

"Too bad Ashlin isn't here with us," Tess said with a small attempt at humor.

"Ashlin's a warrior herself," Keira snorted. "If anything it's Torn that'll need our help."

Tess laughed but it sounded forced. Keira held her tighter and tried her best to soothe her. A nurse came in and took Maelia away to join the other three babies in the nursery. Tess curled onto her side and fell asleep.

And it was just them two, the warrior's wives.

**(To Be Continued)

* * *

****­**A/N: Aw, some female bonding. Considering all that's gonna happen they're gonna need each other… a lot. So yeah, I'm making them close friends. I'm trying to get Ashlin in there, but she's real busy, you know? Ruler of Haven City and all that. And Jak isn't going to return to the story for a while… sorry!

**Act V:** Torn faces the facts, Keira has to react, and the world crumbles beneath their feet. It's the end of Part One!

**Reviews:**

**Hellmouth2:** it's right, I know by writing it people would be curious. The best way to deal with pain (for me) is to talk about it. See, I know a lot of people (and some of them were family) in the World Trade Towers and I grew up in NYC so it was a blow and just recently the little boy I used to babysit died of Leukemia. It was really tough on me since I was there with him for the last few days… I even went to Disney World with him 'cause he didn't want to go without me and my cousins. I've just always been close to death and Lee was modeled after that tiny little boy.

**Prexistence:** yes, what did happen to Jak? I know, but I ain't tellin'! Mwhahahahahaha! Personally, I like long chapters to and with this one they just keep getting longer. Usually with a my fic I have to worry about not making the chapters long enough, but for this story I have limits on how long a chapter could be or they could go on forever!

**Red Mage 04:** actually, I have been told on numerous occasions that I am indisputably the queen of all darkness XD I often tend to agree. Either way, this story _is_ going to leave you hanging at quite a few parts. That's just the way it is! Again, I laugh evilly. Mwhahahahahaha!

**Specter Von Baron:** oh, you evil devil you! pinches cheeks affectionately Isn't it wonderful being a secret keeper (with no pun towards Harry Potter) I love you're continued support and your inspiration! Jak IV would be a crappy sequel, like _Episode 1 and 2_ of _Star Wars_, though I am holding out for the 3rd Episode… er… don't let me down George!

**Light-Eco-Sage:** it has slowly started to consume my entire writing efforts. I can't start another fic in fear that I'll just be dragged back to this one. Apparently… Jak IV doesn't like to share me with my other works…

**Whiskers:** I wanted to hit Daxter bad too when I reread Act Three… than I was like: oh, I made him that way and started to comfort my poor Daxter. After all… I'm a mean horrible person and he's just always my victim!

**Teh Kitsune:** no need to blush, poppet, Nik is designed to be hot XD He's no Ron Weasley (what's with my sudden obsession with Harry Potter… oh yeah, new book coming out soon). I saw a model in a picture once and I changed his beach-boy blonde hair to red and had my hunk-a-hunk burnin' love!

**Maieve Avvi:** seriously, the Grand Canyon ain't got nothin' on this baby. There will be so many depressing drops that you might just go running away in terror and read a much happier piece of writing. Like Lemony Snicket's a Series of Unfortunate Events.

**Lyzz2nwn:** everyone should feel bad for Daxter… and annoyed at him at same time! And don't be embarrassed at correcting me. I take criticism to the heart and use it to make my fics better. Thank for your contributes! You get a cookie! I sure hope nurses ain't like that or I might lash out at one on my death bed… I'm very passive aggressive until something pisses me off. Than everyone just runs away XD


	5. Ashes to Ashes

**Disclaimer:** insert it here

_AN:_ Yes, updated! I was momentarily drawn away from this story by another one, but it didn't take very long for me to come back to good ol' Jak. Anyway, this is it! The end of part one! The end of the short chapters. That's right, I said _short_ chapters. They're only getting longer!

* * *

**Act V: Ashes to Ashes **

To Nyx there was nothing more beautiful than the Holy City at night. Many would disagree, Haven City residents especially. But there was no other place she would rather be.

She was born and raised in Sage-Harmona, during its golden era, but it wasn't home. The Holy City was home. Residents of Sage-Harmona would be enraged—they were big on their patriotism—at her for such thoughts, but she would not return to Sage-Harmona even if ordered by the royal family. Luckily, she doubted they even knew she was alive.

Perhaps that was why she was so angry that Nik was here. She had made a life in the Holy City and Nik was nothing more than a bad memory from her past. He was ruining the little world she had created for her and her sister.

That was why she couldn't sleep. It wasn't because she was uncomfortable knowing he was so close to her, sleeping so near, after so long of being apart. Her heart wasn't aching for _him_. He betrayed her trust and she would not forgive.

"Hey," a voice called and she wheeled around, reaching for her sword. Then she remembered that she didn't have one strapped to her waist. They were in times of peace now and she was trying to put the warrior behind her.

Nik stepped out of the shadows, the moon falling across his flaming hair so that it had a silver hue. He was wearing simple pants and shirt that Sala had supplied him with as sleepwear.

It seemed, Nyx thought bitterly, that it hadn't taken him long to wedge himself into her life.

She remembered the first time she had ever laid eyes on him. During the reign of Sage-Harmona. She had been no more than eleven. Her father had taken her to Sage-Harmona for the very first time, the regiment they were both in finally getting their release papers. Nik had lived there his whole life and he had been thirteen and just starting his training.

He had met them at the gates, his first trainee mission being to guide them around, since her father hadn't been there before either. Nyx had held her father's hand, staring up at him, and she had fallen. Fallen so hard that it smacked her in the fact. Then Nik had smiled and flirted with her and she realized loving him was the biggest mistake she could ever make. So she pushed him away.

Unfortunately, Nik had a tendency to push back.

"What do you want?" she snapped, banking the rage that threatened to bubble and spill.

"To see you," he said plainly and smiled, looking so dangerous and bad boy in the darkness. When they had been fighting Nik had preferred to use his cunning and skills rather than rushing head first into battle. "The first thought I had when I awoke was to find you, Nyx."

"Funny. I haven't thought of you at all. In fact, I'd rather never think of you again." She knew it was a lie, but it gave her satisfaction to know he might think that he no longer had an effect on him anymore.

"Nyx, my Nyx, you've gotten sharper but other than that you haven't changed. Still a prickly thorn bush." Nik did not seem wounded by Nyx's words. If anything, he seemed amused by them.

She glared at him, barely able to see him in the dark. With anyone else she would have had a clear visual image. But Nik was a man who relied on speed and skill more than brute force. He knew how to use every shadow to his advantage. He knew how to read an enemy's weakness and he could kill in an instant.

Right know he was using those tactics on her and she knew what he planned to achieve with them and it sent a shiver of excitement and fear down her spine.

_Like hell_. Nyx was no little, inexperience army brat anymore and Nik had to learn that. "I am going to bed. Tomorrow I have to go out and look for more people."

She turned and before she realized what was happening Nik had her wrist and was yanking her towards him. _Damnit!_ She had forgotten how fast he could move.

Having him this close, being able to inhale his tangy scent, made shivers rise on her skin. She remembered this clearly. The stolen looks, hot mouths, the sense of danger. Worrying that they'd be caught. Even though there was nothing wrong with two soldiers faradizing her father would be displeased.

She remembered the way his hands moved along her body, the long, skilled fingers, knowing just where to touch. The memory of his husky laugh when she had clung to him, given her body over to him, slipped into her dreams and left her aching and wanton. With time she learned how to make him moan and demand and beg, but what always stood with a girl was the memory of the first touch of the man she loved. Nyx was a strong woman, but she was no expectation.

The memories engulfed her and it was all she could do not to make a heady demand, to give into what he would offer if only she asked. Even the betrayal, the hurt, knowing what he did, dimmed at the thought of the pleasure she knew he would bring. His eyes would go dark, so very dark. The gray becoming like onyx, trapping all light and drawing her into its dark depths.

How could she be stupid?

"Missed you, Nyx, missed you," he said into her hair and she stiffened. No amount of soothing would erase what had happened.

"You couldn't have possibly missed me, Nik. You were in a void for over a thousand years. You felt nothing." Nyx didn't remember her time in the void expect the cold that slipped onto her skin at night.

"Lair. I did. Every atom of my being called out for you and you didn't answer." Nik laughed, but it was harsh and raw with the memory. It was painful to remember floating, aching for her, all but screaming out for her, and hearing nothing in return. "Hell hath no fury such as a woman scorned… or something like that."

"It was the past, thousands of years ago. I'm over it." She jerked free and backed away, but she kept facing him. If he grabbed her, she would kick and fight. "It means nothing to me now."

There was a flash of anger in his eyes and Nyx almost shuddered with the memory of what happened when Nik released his anger. It was rare and deadly and could cut anyone down who dared provoke it. And because it was so powerful and dangerous Nik had undergone intense training to see to it no one but his enemies ever became a recipient of it. This time he banked it.

"Don't piss me off, Nyx. It means something. It _always_ means something. I'll wait, but not for long. We'll fix what happened and then we'll be together again. I'll have you again. One way or the other." Nik shrugged as if it was simple math. Nyx felt the angry beating of his heart against her arm and she knew the power it took for him to control his rage. "Personally, I like when it's rough. You told me you did, too."

She flushed and he laughed. All those memories she had buried deep years ago resurfaced and she almost hated him for it. But her heart moved at the same time and she couldn't.

"I won't go back. You ruined it, Nik, not me." She walked away, hurrying to her room so she could bury her head in her pillow and block the memories. "Whatever we had is dead."

"No, it's not and I'll prove it," Nik called after her.

&

"Keira…?"

Raising her head, Keira wiped at the sweat pooling on her brow. She was knee deep in a car's open center, struggling with her wrench to fix the oil-bleeding engine. It was a fine machine, even if a bit old, and she was determined to fix it up and see how fast she could make it go.

Sig stood at the threshold of her garage, looking more than a little out of whack. In fact, he looked completely uneasy, as if being there was taking all his courage.

"Can it wait, Sig?" Keira question, and lowered her aching arms. "I need to finish this before my arms give out." She offered her estranged father a tentative smile.

"N—No, Keira, it can't." She had no idea how he wished it could. He wanted to turn and flee. He didn't want to be the one to put the desolation and defeat onto her face. Jak should have been alive, damnit.

Just because he had told Torn he would tell Keira, didn't mean he had to like it.

"All right, all right. You've caught me in a good mood." It was the first one since she had come back from the hospital with Tess, who was currently recuperating at the Naughty Ottsel under Daxter's careful, watchful, and aloof gaze.

There was just something about working with oil and grease and knowing she carried a baby in her womb that made everything so much more enjoyable.

Sig sighed and reached out for her arm as she came near. "Keira… there's no easy way to tell ya this," he began and cursed again, biting down on his tongue until he felt the bitter, cooper taste in his mouth.

She sensed it before she saw it. Regret, swimming deep in Sig's perfectly green eye. It made her spine shudder in horror. "Sig? What is it?"

"Jak," he rasped and lowered them both to the ground. Keira hand had begun to tremble already, little tremors running up her spine.

"Jak…?"

"He's gone…" Sig shook his head. No, Jak wasn't _gone_. "He's dead, Keira." Keira had gone unnaturally silent, staring at him with wide and unbelieving eyes. Her face went as pale as the snow that fell onto Haven City during the winter.

"This isn't funny, Sig." Her voice was small and tiny and weak.

"Damn right, it isn't." He shook his head, his whole body shaking with anger and rage and helplessness. "Do you remember the reconnaissance mission Jak went on about a month ago?" Keira nodded numbly, her aquamarine hair flapping over her darkening green eyes.

"Bu—but he's late from those kinds of things all the time." She was choking on her own words. She wrapped her trembling fingers around the smooth column of her throat.

"Not this time, Keira. There must have been a large group of Metal Heads in Dead Town. I don't know how but they… they must have cornered him, caught him off guard." His fingers curled into helpless fists at his side. Damnit, damnit, _damnit_ Jak. "We found his gun… but he's gone. You know Jak wouldn't go anywhere without his gun…"

"No," Keira whispered and began to struggle against him. "No!"

"We've been searching for him for almost a month. In Dead Town, in the desert. There's nothing. Keira, his body probably buried deep somewhere in a Metal Head nest…" He brought her into his arms, rocking her. "Keira…"

"NO! Stop lying. Just stop!" she struggled wildly against him, as if by fighting him she could fight the hard truth. "Please don't say it, Sig."

He let her go and she stood, backing away from him. "I didn't want anyone else to tell you. I needed to tell you. Tonight Torn and Ashlin are making an announcement. I wanted you to know before it all came out. People are going to bombard you with questions, Keira. The media is going to attack you."

"I want my daddy," Keira whispered as tears slashed across her face, making an angry dirty streak down the pale skin. "Please, get my daddy."

It killed Sig to know she wasn't talking about him. Keira was talking about Samos the Sage. That was who she wanted. She probably wanted nothing to do with him right now. Sig, the bringer of bad news.

"I'll go him, Keira. No problem." He turned and was grateful for the opening. He needed some space, some time to breathe. Some time to think.

_Damnit, Jak._

Once he was gone, Keira curled into a ball, sobbing softly. No, no, no! Jak couldn't be gone. They were married, they were going to start a family, the baby was going to be born in a few months. How could Jak be gone?

Why? Why would Jak be taken from her? After all they had suffered to be together? Why had it been destroyed? Didn't they deserve happiness? Hadn't they earned it after all they had done?

She stood and pressed a hand to her stomach, her face tightening in pain. Jak had put his hand here, right here, and waited for the feeling of life to show beneath his palms. Now he would never know that feeling, know their child.

"Baby…" she whispered and stroked her womb, taking deep big, gulping breaths to insure the safety of the child she carried. It was all she had left. "Baby…"

Her baby would never know its father. All her baby would know was the hero Jak, the man Haven City saw him as. The baby would never know Jak the father, Jak the husband. She would only see him as Haven did, a hero. She would never know the real him.

It burned her.

But for Jak, for Jak's memory, for all that he had done for her, for the city, Keira would be strong. She wouldn't let Jak's struggles for peace be in vain. It was all she could do for him. She'd live, she'd raise their child, and she'd be strong.

"Jak…" she whispered softly. "Jak…"

All around her there was silence, this feeling of emptiness, like a part of herself was missing. The second half of her soul. She had pretended she hadn't felt it over the last month, ignoring what her mind was screaming at her, but she could deny it now.

Her husband was gone, dead, and all that was left of him was the child she carried.

&

The announcement came on the small, rounded communicators as the sun settled behind the horizon. Most Haven City residents had them now. They were the best way to keep in touch with the world and each other.

Ashlin Praxis sat at a small, wooden desk with her hands folded and her face solemn. She could have been crying earlier, her face was pale enough, but she had placed a neutral mask over herself as she faced her people.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began and took a long, deep breath, steadying herself to what had to come next. "It brings me no pleasure to say this… but Jak Mar, the hero of the Metal Head Wars, has been reported dead… this morning by the Wastelanders. Jak Mar went missing in Dead Town about a month ago…"

She went on to describe Jak's last mission to Dead Town and the month the Wastelanders and Krimzon Guard had spent looking for him.

Tess gave a small gasp, choking on the scream that pressed against her throat, and barely managed to keep her grip on Maelia, the tiny child asleep after her feeding. Her fingers were curled restlessly on Tess's breast and her face was still red from her screams. When Maelia wasn't screaming she was eating.

The Naughty Ottsel was empty. Closing time had been ten minutes ago and the last drunk had been hauled out by Daxter.

"Daxter…" With his name on her lips, Tess turned and faced her husband. Daxter leaned against a wall, his face pale and his mouth agape.

"No. No. _NO_!" Daxter all but screamed, throwing his hands into his hair and shaking in denial. "Jak! Not Jak! Goddamnit, Jak!"

There was this wild animal look in his eyes and Tess was afraid of him. She hated to say she was afraid of her husband—her _husband_—but she was afraid of him. Afraid of what he would do in this moment of sheer panic.

Maelia was roused by this noise, her baby senses alerting her to the rage within her father. For a moment she simply waved her fists in the air, her face going red and clenched, before she managed to find her voice. Then she released a scream that could have awakened the dead.

"Daxter!" Trying to soothe Maelia with her one arm she reached out for Daxter with the other. But then she let it fall to her side. She was afraid to touch him, afraid she might send him over the edge.

Finally, the former Ottsel managed to calm himself down enough to look over at Tess. There was still this burning, uncontrollable rage inside, but he put a lock on it, banked it down. When he was alone he would rage and rant and destroy. But not now, not when his wife and child were nearby.

He looked over at them and saw. Tess, her eyes wide in her white face, with Maelia clutched against her chest, the tiny child screaming out in a mixture of terror and anger. Both of them looked… _scared_.

_My fault,_ he thought bitterly and his face twisted. _I did this._ He made Tess back away from him in terror, he made Maelia scream for mercy. He did this. Daxter, the sidekick. Best friend of Jak the hero.

Maybe it wasn't Jak that had been twisted inside by the dark eco. Maybe it was him. Maybe he was the one with the dark stuff tainting his very core. Maybe all of this was his fault.

_I don't deserve them_, he thought, staring at his wife and daughter. That was why Lee had died. Because Daxter didn't deserve a son. He had cheated Fate one to many times and now she had come to collect. After all, who was he but the guy who hid behind the man who saved everyone? Jak was the hero. Jak deserved all of this.

But then why had Jak…?

Maybe that was his fault, too.

"Daxter," Tess started and reached out for him again. He pulled himself away, not wanting to be touched, afraid he would snap. He shook his head.

"I _can't_," he told her and before another word could be uttered he turned and ran. Out the Naughty Ottsel with Tess's voice crying after him.

He raced out into the Port, the night bitter cold against his skin. He ran and ran until the mountains loomed above him, like dark, menacing monsters.

Around the city was silent, but it was not a gentle silence. It was forced, twisted, perverse. Everyone was silenced by one thing. Shock. Children clung to mothers and fathers lowered their heads in shame.

Jak Mar, the savior, their savoir, was dead.

And then the moan rose up, rose up into the sky. It a was sick, twisted harmony, a thousands souls crying out in anguish in the same moment.

Daxter dropped to his knees, gripping his head in pain. No, no, no! This was wrong. How could this be?

Jak was the hero, the good guy, the guy who got a happy ending. Everything was supposed to be perfect. They had beaten the bad guys, saved the world, got the girls, why wasn't everything else falling into place? Why didn't he have Lee and Maelia? Why didn't Jak have his life?

"Why?" Daxter whispered, his breath frosting over his lips. "Why?"

The mourning voices of Haven City floated around him and he clamped his hands over his ears to block out the noise. He didn't want to hear them. Didn't want to hear them mourning for the man they didn't know.

_Why? Why Jak? Why him above everything else? Didn't he deserve peace?_

Daxter didn't get an answer.

&

Within twelve hours after Jak's death announcement, Samos the Sage had moved in with his daughter. Sig even decided to buy a house closer to Keira's. Both men had decided on the long, tedious car ride to Keira's garage that they would push aside all their differences and simply be there for Keira… two fathers.

A day later, Ashlin and Torn had the funeral preparations underway for Jak's ceremony. It took place in the palace, in one of the large rooms in the center, draped with red and black curtains.

Ashlin and Torn and Keira stood on the stage, raised above the crowds that had assembled to bid farewell to their hero, and Sig and Samos were right below her. Tess and Daxter were in the back, his arms around her shoulders and his face buried in her hair, with Maelia bundled up to fight the cold.

She was strong on the outside, Keira, but inside she felt like a broken doll. Like little, tiny fragments had broken off her body and no matter how hard she tried to pick them up they didn't fit to her anymore. She was incomplete.

Her tiny baby all but rolled in her stomach, kicking against her ribs and womb, struggling against its constrictions. She had been only three months pregnant with the baby during the ceremony, but the movement and pulse of life inside her was already burning so strong.

The press hounded her during her entire pregnancy. How did she feel about losing Jak? How was she going to raise her baby? Did she plan on remarrying?

Sig and Samos were by her side constantly. One never strayed from her. If Samos had to do something, Sig was there and vice versa. Samos presence in her house as she grew in her pregnancy was welcomed. His healing arts made the pain of childbearing ease, though nothing could quell the ache in her heart.

Keira lounged on a narrow sofa in her home. Tears filmed her eyes and her hand was twined within her aquamarine locks.

"I can't even climb the damn stairs," she said to herself, bile clogging in her throat. Her stomach was swollen painfully against one of Sig's shirts he had given to her during her second trimester.

_I should be wearing Jak's shirts_, she thought bitterly. Jak's things were locked away. She hadn't been able to look at them without screaming, biting down so hard on her lips that a single rivulet of blood ran down her chin.

"There, there, cherry," Sig said and handed her a steaming mug of tea. Keira accepted it and swallowed it, burning her throat. She didn't care. The burning sensation was better then the tight ache. "You're eight months in now."

Her fingers moved down and touched her womb and felt her baby kick. It loved to kick. Boy or girl this one would be a fight. Like its father.

Tears slashed across her cheeks. Jak would never feel this, never feel life kicking in its early stages. He would never know this tiny fighter they had created. It would be a child of their blood, but she would be the only parent it knew.

"Damnit," Sig cursed as the onslaught began again. He came along the side of the sofa and gathered Keira into his arms. She pressed her face into his chest and sobbed, her whole body wrenching with them.

He ran a hand over her back, as tender with her as a father would be with a newborn. In a sense, Keira was his newborn. He had known her only long enough for it to count as that. And he regretted it.

Keira's fingers bunched the material of his shirt. A day didn't go by without Keira crying like this, her body aching for Jak. Sig wished he could blame the tears on her mood swings—and Keira was known for them as she got closer and closer to her due date—but he knew it wasn't.

There was something twisting Keira's heart around and around and around. And there was nothing he could do to unravel it. All he could do was watch and grind his teeth as each day her heart twisted a little more.

"Remember crying isn't good for the baby, Keira," Sig pointed out. The doctor had said that Keira's emotional backup could have unhealthy side effects on the baby.

"Yes," Keira said against his chest, but the tears didn't stop. She took a laboring breath and tried to cease them. After all, all she had was her baby. Jak's baby. The little piece of him he had left with her.

Suddenly there was a flutter of wings and a loud curse. Keira pulled herself away from Sig and wiped at her eyes as Sig stood.

Pecker stood there, shaking his blue-tipped head like a wounded animal. He tested his red wings and wiggled his blue legs to make sure nothing was broken.

"What do you want?" Sig demanded and crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. He had changed into a black shirt and baggy pants, removed the gear from his head. It was his subtle way of saying he no longer a Wastelander.

But that didn't mean he didn't intimate like one anymore.

"I never liked you!" Pecker barked and took to the air. "I came to see Keira."

"I'm over here," Keira answered and her voice was weak and hoarse from her tears. Sig took a halfhearted swipe at the money/bird, but the thing evaded it.

"Keira… I come bearing news from Onin," Pecker explained and bowed at Keira's feet. Respect and sympathy shown in his normally callous eyes. Pecker had respected Jak, had respected what he had done even if it killed him to admit it, and in turn he respected Jak's widow.

"Oh?" Keira raised an eyebrow and swung her legs over the couch, hunching her shoulders.

Sig coughed. Onin hadn't been at the ceremony for Jak, but that really wasn't surprising since Onin wasn't in the way of moving. And she had been uncannily silent before and after Jak's death.

So why was she suddenly moving now?

"It's about the baby," Pecker said and wouldn't give Keira any other hint. "She needs to talk to you."

"Keira's havin' a rough day," Sig snapped. "She can hardly walk. Onin can wait."

"No," Keira said suddenly and her voice had a very determined flare to it. "When Onin wants to talk, we listen. Nothing good comes of ignoring her."

Sig couldn't argue with that but he could argue with moving. "Keira, cherry, think about the baby… what the doctors said…"

"Sig," Keira said through what sounded like gritted teeth. "With you or without you. I'm going." She sounded angry now and an angry, pregnant Keira was not a good thing.

"Fine. Fine. I wish Samos was here." He meant it. The Sage could talk Keira out of anything. Currently he was at the palace tending to a cold Ryu had caught. Though it was likely nothing, after Lee Ashlin and Torn were on edge.

"I'm not." Keira accepted the arm Sig held out of her. Shakily she lumbered to her feet, a hand coming up and cupping her swollen belly.

"I'll fly above you."

&

It was not hard to get into the Bazaar. Spring had just begun to bud and most residents were not eager to take out their hovercars just yet.

But people were in the Bazaar.

It wasn't as bad as the first few months after Jak's death. But people still stared and pointed. They had seen her on the communicators, they had seen her in the newspapers. They knew her and her story.

_Isn't that—?_

_What is she doing here…?_

_Look, she'll be having the baby soon…_

_I wonder what…?_

Keira pushed herself against Sig for protection. He placed a protective, fatherly hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the tent where Onin lived. Its pointed tops loomed in the gray sky.

Pecker had flown ahead, into the tent, once they had arrived in the Bazaar. He had patted Keira almost in a friendly nature on her hand before taking off.

She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her black scarf covering her neck from the late frost of the spring. She wanted to strip each piece of clothing and let herself freeze, numbing the pain burning her heart.

The tent was warm inside and smelt odd but not terrible. It was almost soothing, aromatherapy clearing her clogged throat.

"Welcome, Keira," Pecker said from his perch on Onin's large bowl on her head. It wasn't really Pecker speaking, but Onin's influence and thoughts being impressed into his brain. "Have a sit. Sig, kindly wait by the door."

Keira knelt down, her knees curled under her. Sig stood stiff at the flap, the biting cold of the outside stroking his neck.

"We have called you to talk of Jak," Pecker folded his hands over his stomach. "We sensed Jak's future growing clouded and dark, but we assumed it would be another battle. Never once did it occur that Jak would… perish."

Her throat clogged again and even the incense couldn't ease it. Tears caught in her eyelashes and she lowered her head.

"Words cannot describe our guilt over it, Keira," Pecker and Onin said. "We should have told you. Perhaps… perhaps…"

"It wasn't your fault," Keira told them but how she wished they had told her. If only… if only maybe then Jak would be here.

"We didn't even sense his passing until the announcement was made. We couldn't sense him any longer. Metal Heads often do that to us." Pecker went silent, most likely arguing with Onin in his head. "Now we look at you daughter."

"Daughter?" Keira whispered and her hand stolen to her abandon. "It's a girl?" Pecker nodded and a sad, sad smile cover Keira's face.

_Jak, Jak, it's a girl, Jak. We're having a beautiful baby girl._

"Yes. She will be a combination of both you and Jak, Keira. She will have a destiny, here or elsewhere. Her future has been clouded by some unknown force."

"Clouded? Someone doesn't want you to know it?" Pecker nodded and Keira's hand curled against her belly.

_No, I'll never let anyone hurt her. Not my baby. I'll protect her, Jak, for both of us._

"But for now we can't worry about that. She'll grow up before anything happens." Pecker smiled slowly. "And that's why we called you. We have a gift for you, for your daughter. Her name, her proper name."

"Her name." Keira almost wanted to protest, to say that naming her daughter was her privilege. But somehow she couldn't say no. It was dangerous to look into the future, but Onin had taken that risk and she accepted that gift.

"Yes, call her…"

&

"I've decided."

"What?" Nyx questioned as she and Sala and Gareth looked up from their notes. They were mapping out the places they had searched in for reborn humanoids. Finally, the stream of people was ceasing.

"That I need to leave," Crea clasped her hands before her back, under the heavy leather of her traveling backpack. "I have to go find Venn, Nyx."

Nyx stood as Sala and Gareth shared bemused looks. "Crea…"

"Dun worry!" Crea chirped and danced around the room, pressing noisy kisses to Sala and Gareth's mouths. "Once I find him I'll come back."

Could her sister really be leaving? Nyx body gave a long shudder. No, she couldn't leave! She was just a little baby. She couldn't go out into the world alone. What would happen to her?

But she didn't look like a baby. She looked strong, so strong. Her blue eyes shone against her pale face and her chin was angled. She was finding her Venn and nothing would stop her.

"I think you can handle things without me, can't you, Nyx? Nik is here now and I can't wait anymore. Venn might have forgotten me!" Crea's face showed the scandalous of the words. "I need to put some metal in his head to remind him."

"Wouldn't that kill him?" Gareth asked no one in particular.

"Crea, you can't go," Nyx said softly and knelt down. "It's dangerous out there. You could be hurt, killed. You could…"

The little girl wrapped her arms around her sister's neck. "Stop worrying. I'll shoot anything that's a threat. Promise Nyx."

She pulled herself away from Crea and looked her sternly in the face. "You're serious, aren't you?" She hated to say it, hated to see it in her face.

"Of course, silly! I've only been saying it for_ever_!" Crea giggled as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "I miss Venn."

The little boy with the laughing eyes and dark hair. The little boy who had played catch with Crea as soon as he had been able to walked. The little boy who had said he was going to marry her some day. Nyx remembered him and she refused to remember the pain he had brought into her life.

Crea watched Nyx sort through her memories and patted her cheek, smiling. "Gotta go! See ya soon!" She streaked out of the room, her sneakers slapping against the marbled floor of the palace.

"She'll be fine, Nyx," Sala said confidently. "Despite the silliness she's quite capable of handling herself. The Metal Heads should be running…"

Without a word Nyx raced down the hall after her sister, her heart beating wildly against her chest, trying to free itself from her too tight skin. She rushed passed the guards, not even caring that they saw her for the first time emotional. Her eyes blurred with water, but the salty tears didn't fall.

But Crea was gone when she reached the castle gates. Crea was a fast runner and she was driven by the urge to find her friend as fast as she could.

_Venn… little Venn who said he was going to marry my sister. Crea's leaving me… for him…_

Her lower lips trembled in protest of the thought.

Two arms wrapped around her shoulders and she felt lips against her hair. "She's gotta do this, Nyx. I'm sorry it hurts." It was Nik and his body was solid against her swaying one.

For a moment she let herself fall against him, inhaling his scent and his warmth. He would make the pain go away, Nik and his wild fingers. He could make her forget that her sister was gone, gone into the desert. He would make her forget that she was alone now, completely and utterly.

But she pushed against him, drawing away. Nik was the cause of this. He lied to her about Venn and he had brought the boy to Sage-Harmona.

"Don't touch me," she snapped and her voice was raw and bitter. She hated letting that emotion into her voice and she hated the tears filming her eyes.

"I will one day, Nyx," Nik promised and released because he knew that she needed to deal with this on her own. Nyx always needed to deal with it on her own. He swore one day he would make her see that she didn't need to deal with it on her own anymore. But for now, he let her go.

"No."

But it was a lie, and they both knew it.

&

Crea paused as she rushed into the desert, bending over to gather her breath. She stood perfectly still for a moment, allowing the wind to rub the grainy sand over her skin.

The Holy City was behind her, large and near. If she turned and started back she could be home in a matter of minutes.

For a moment she considered it, considered turning and making a mad dash into her sister's arms. Nyx would hold her and rock her and accept that Crea didn't want to leave her. Nyx was protection and the world outside was dark and unknown.

Only…

Only she knew that if it had been Venn he would have gone without looking back. Brave Venn, hands on his hips, trying to be older than he was. Born to be the leader, born to be cocky and arrogant and so much like his brother.

_"Don't worry, Crea, k? If anything happens, I'll find you. Remember, I'm your knight in shining armor!"_

She smiled, pressing her hands to her mouth in giddy anticipation. A knight in shining armor? She didn't need no stinking knight! But she did need a friend, a friend that knew her. Venn knew her best, other than Nyx and her sister couldn't count as a real friend.

"Venn, Venn!" She started running again, as far from the Holy City as her legs would take her. Venn hated the cities, he was of the desert, and she would never find him by hiding. "Venn, I'm coming."

Her laughter pelted into the air, carried by the wind. Somewhere out there her past, present, and future awaited. And it was all in the arms of a scrawny, too thin boy who liked to pretend he was everyone's hero.

The heavy silver of her pistols slapped against her calves, as if trying to urge her on faster. Her hair whipped around her face and Crea decided to put it up when she stopped for the night. She had camping materials in her rucksack and she'd be able to find strings to tie her hair with.

Wouldn't Venn be surprised to found out she was her own knight in shining armor?

&

"Push, Keira!" the doctor cried as Keira gave a long scream, her hand fisting on Samos's brittle fingers. The old Sage's scream sounded in turn with his daughter.

Sig had seen a lot of nasty things and he had thought he was jaded to most of it. But seeing his daughter giving birth made him feel sick to his stomach. So much blood, so much screaming. He hadn't been allowed into the delivery room because he might have fainted.

"She's doing great," Tess said and clutched Maelia to her, as if the child would simply fade away if she let go. "I should know. Childbirth is no walk in the park… but when it's over nothing can compare."

He looked over at the blonde and felt a quick spark of sympathy for her. Daxter was there but he had opted to wait in waiting room, unlike Sig and Tess who had decided to wait just outside the delivery room in case something went wrong or Keira needed them.

Keira's face rolled with her sweat and she was biting down hard on her lip. She took deep breaths like the doctors had taught her, trying to concentrate on pushing and not the pain that clenched over her aching bones.

"Jak!" she screamed in desperation as the baby began to emerge. "I wish you were alive so I could kill you!" And then she began to cry, sobbing out her husband's name.

"One more push, Keira!" the blonde doctor ordered her and Keira screamed out with the energy it took to obey.

Then weak, tiny squeals filled the room. They weren't loud and angry like Maelia's had been, but they were filled with the promise of life. The blonde doctor held the kicking girl child in her arms tenderly, looking into her red, blood-covered face.

Sig and Tess came in, already decked out in hospital scrubs and masks. Sig hung back well Tess moved forward to coo Keira.

The baby wasn't pretty, but he had been told newborns rarely were. She was bald and sticky and reeked of her mother's sweat and blood. Tiny blue veins stuck out against her pale skin, a map to the very inside of her.

And yet, he had never seen anything more amazing.

"She's beautiful, Mrs. Mar," the doctor said as she wrapped the kicking baby in a plain, soft swaddling. "A healthy baby girl. Seven pounds. A bit small… but very, very powerful already."

Keira smiled tiredly as she rocked the baby in her arms. The little babe settled down, soothed by the woman she had been a part of for nine months.

"A miracle," Sig muttered as Tess sighed. She wanted to hold her Maelia but a doctor had taken her into the waiting room so the newborn wasn't given a disease. "That's what this is. A miracle."

"Our miracle," Tess agreed with a smile. "Only we can do it, Keira. Only us." She bent down and stroked Keira's sweaty hair. "Do you know what you're going to name her?"

"Yes." Keira looked at Sig and she offered him another tired, tired smile. "Her name was a gift from Onin and Pecker. They knew her name."

"I never heard the name before," Sig admitted to Tess, who quirked an eyebrow. "It's odd and ancient to be sure, but somehow… it fits."

"Well, what is it? I wanna know why my best friend's daughter is going to be named." Tess smiled and touched Keira's heart in a tender, sisterly way.

Keira looked down at the baby and smiled into the face of her dark, dark blue. Jak's eyes. His first gift to their daughter. His eyes.

"Aithne. Her name is Aithne…"

**(To Be Continued…)

* * *

**

A/N: Sad… and you know something? This _isn't_ going to be the angsty part of the story. That title is reserved for the **Part Two: A Descent into the Maelstrom**. The title is, yes, from Edgar Allan Poe's short story. What can I say? I did a research paper on it and it's been stuck in my head ever since.

**Act VI:** Almost two years later… Nik and Nyx get farther and closer apart, we find out that Jak is _not_ dead (but we already knew that), Aithne turns two and realizes she doesn't have a father, Ryu and Torn has their first argument, and Maelia sees the coldness in her father for the first time.

**Reviews:**

**Red Mage 04:** torturing Jak brings me a please that only get if… torture Daxter. Apparently, I like to hurt that poor sucker. Oh, and I like to kill off my OCs, especially if I since they become Mary Sue-ish. Remember that.

**Eco Child:** eh, Whiskers worked for me! And I'm surprised that everyone is expressing anger toward Daxter and not me. I thought I would have hate mail from here on in. Glad everyone's not blaming me, or my muse—she gets enough blame everyday!

**Specter Von Baron:** hey, you know Nik is kinda like Zelos and I just finished that game for the second time about two weeks ago… coincidence? And I like to surprise you. Not even _you_ know everything. Keeps you reading!

**Toboe's pup:** I love Lee, he was such an awesome character, a _male_ blonde ditz. How many of those to you see? Never mind. I dunno, though. Maybe I'll put Lee into a nothing story since he's so freaking awesome. But it's never a good sign when you get _too_ attached to an OC, you know.

**Light-Eco-Sage:** well, this is a sequel and normally I don't end up seeing sequels all the way through. But don't worry! I am determined to finish this and I have the whole plot planned out. I'll tie myself to a chair and force myself to right if that's what it takes!

**Hellmouth2:** there, there. These acts were not intended to make you cry. They're just fiction! XD But (hopefully this makes you feel better!) you get a cookie for remembering Marisa, though as you can see I didn't name Keira's baby after Marisa. I considered it, but then I found the name Aithne means "fire-starter" and so it… well, you'll see

**Glorfindel Silverleaf:** I love Nik. He's so fun, so complex. You'll see way in Part Two! Don't worry if you missed an update. Just check in when you can and I shall be happy! It does not take much to make me happy.

**Lyzz2nwn:** sugar is my favourite too! The names I picked for the characters were never really their original names. Like Ryutaro, I saw that in a history book and decided it was better than my original. Aithne had three names before that, she started out as Marisa, then turned in Keige, then I tried to settle with Yumi. Then I found Aithne and it worked, like that! And I tend to stay away from scary movies. When I was like eight I saw _The Exorcist_ and then everything frightens me 'cept _Freddy vs. Jason_. I found that funny. Stupid teenagers… running around in circles when guy with machete chases you…

**Amethi:** hey, I like that name! Very cool. Anywho, I'm trying to update at least once a month until summer or another break rolls along, though since all the other stories I'm currently working on are falling short compared to this one!

**Teh Kitsune:** hmm, I love apples. Thank ya kindly! I love that you remembered Marisa! I didn't think people liked her very much since I hardly ever gave her character growth. I just hope people continue to like this story considering that Part Two is really an OC part (though by no means the others are gone).


	6. Part Two:: My Father's Keeper

**Disclaimer:** I own the Jak series and I'm standing by that… unless you sue me. Then I'll deny everything.

_AN:_ wow. An early update. Well, I couldn't seem to keep away from this. That might be different 'cause I have another JaD story coming in shortly (I can't seem to keep away from them) but it'll be shorter than this (differently) only like six or seven chapters. I just wanted to write something set in the Jak 3 timeline!

* * *

**Part Two: Descent into the Maelstroms**

**Act VI: My Father's Keeper **

"Two years, Crea… you've been gone for two years…" Nyx sighed and decided not to enter her sister's empty room. It was still filled with her little knickknacks, things she hadn't taken with her into the desert.

The palace was silent. It was close to midnight and even the servants had settled down. Their activities would start before dawn and nothing would disturb their rest. Not even the movements of a wary soldier.

She slid down the halls, silent as an assassin. She couldn't sleep, but that didn't mean she had the right to deprive everyone else of it.

Sala and Gareth needed the rest. The flood of people being reborn from the time of Sage-Harmona's reign had ceased but unrest was whispered everywhere. The Yoshimoro family was meeting protest after protest of their agreement to sit on the sidelines and no longer claim the powerful hold they had once held in the world.

Sage-Harmona… that was a complete mess and Nyx felt slightly ashamed at having not seen it coming. If it was anything, Sage-Harmona was a prideful city. Even if the Yoshimoro family was willing to step down from their power seats the military wasn't.

Nyx knew first hand the power the military hungered for. It had shaped her life, her womanhood. The military was a structured body of power and succession and those who controlled the military were dominated by war. They grew up with it, fought in it, raised their children with it. They couldn't handle not having war. The feeling of being obsolete was one they were not willing to bear.

They wouldn't let it go. They would do anything to keep the wars pumping, unsure of what else they could do.

And this Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi, he had Nyx on edge. Many war generals and soldiers would be willing to follow the lead of the Yoshimoro family, but she doubted Hirmoyarbeshi would.

When he had risen to power, his military prowess and successful campaigns against the desert people and the Eris's armies bringing him fame, Nyx hadn't been an official part of the army any more. She still had the respect and the titles given to her during her time in the army, but she had been the guardian of Gaeny then.

She didn't think he was a bad man. Part of her were still loyal to Sage-Harmona and her city pride wouldn't allow her to think a power hungry man would ever be allowed to lead Sage-Harmona's armed forces. However, Hirmoyarbeshi was a product of his time and she didn't know how well he would handle it knowing that his time was long passed.

"Ah, nice night for a stroll, isn't it?"

Nyx wheeled around, swinging her arms out for a right hook. Nik laughed softly and caught her wrists, dragging it close. "Is that how you greet your admirer?" He chuckled and with his free hand, stroked her cheek.

"Don't you ever give it a break?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

No, he hadn't in two years. Nik had always managed to be around the corner, offering her an easy smile and flirtatious banter. He sent flowers to her and had Sala and Gareth completely charmed by him.

On top of that the soldiers respected him. They respected her, too, but they loved Nik. He was all smiles and laughter even as he dragged their asses to the ground with rigorous training sessions. But they didn't seem to mind. They even invited him back to their barracks for card games and drinks. Him, Nik, the new lieutenant Sala had put in charge of training the fresh recruits.

She didn't want to say she was jealous, but she knew she'd by lying if she denied it. She had worked hard and long to obtain her place in the Holy City army and Nik had done it within a year. It wasn't that that bothered her so much—though it did take a while for her to swallow it—but it was that he wouldn't drop what was between them, that mess she wished had stayed dead.

He made her remember, remember what it was like to be held by him, to feel their love shine out of their bodies, their skin fusing from the heat and the passion. No one had ever made her feel that way and no one else had the ability to make her forget who she was, to scare away Nyx, the hard-cold army brat, and made her a trembling, melting woman.

Nik made her forget what he had done to her.

But she didn't think about that now. All she could see were the tired bags under his eyes, the way his normally bright smoky eyes seemed to have sunken in his face. It made her heart tighten in her chest despite herself. She hated it when Nik was hurting. He didn't show it to many people, but she had an ability to see pass that easy smile, just as he had the ability to get under her skin.

Her fingers reached out to touch the purple bruise-like sacks under his eyes. "You're really messed up about Sage-Harmona, aren't you?"

It shouldn't have been a surprise to her. Nik was loyal to Sage-Harmona, it was his city. His single mother had taken refuge there when all other towns refused to harbor an unmarried pregnant woman. He respected and loved it for looking at him and seeing him with potential, not just a product of sin.

For a moment his eyes flashed dark. She didn't know the emotion that passed there. Before she could consider it his eyes shifted to teasing. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to it. "I'll feel better if you gave me a kiss."

"I'm being serious," she snapped, more annoyed than insulted. He always did this, refusing to let anyone know what was going on inside his head. He brushed anyone concerns with teasing and flirting, shaking up their minds so badly that they couldn't even think about what they had been so worried about before. Nik never came off as someone consumed with worries, but she knew he was.

"Are you anything but?" Nik asked and pushed himself away from her. "I dun wanna talk about."

"No one would blame you if you took some time off and went back. Check up on a few things." Nyx watched him carefully, cradling her arm against her chest.

He snorted. "I promised I would stay here and help train those recruits. Gareth is good, but he can't do that and deal with… Sage-Harmona. Besides you'd miss me if I was gone, wouldn't you? Or maybe you'd be relieved?"

"Nik…"

"Anyway…" He gave her a devilish smile that had her blonde head shaking. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell I did that pissed you off so bad. Then I can fix it and we can move on… together. I plan a big moving on together."

"You know very well what made me angry," she snapped. She crossed her arms over her chest and was very aware of where his gazed had lingered. It made her face heat and her blood boil, but it wasn't boiling in anger or insult.

"I have an idea, but it doesn't seem big enough to get your panties in a bunch." Nik looked down at her shapely legs, sticking out of the scanty military uniform. He loved the Holy City for putting her in it. "Can you even wear panties in that?"

"That's none of your business!" she returned and almost stopped her foot against the floor, but remembered in time the sleeping residences of the palace.

"I'll make it my business soon enough…" Nik pushed himself off the wall and moved closer. Nyx had the urge to back away, but she refused to allow him to intimidate her. That would just please him.

She gave an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through her blonde hair. "Look, Nik. We're working together and you're… kinda… fun so I think we can be on friendly terms, if not friends, with on another. Can't we just let the past remain in the past?"

"Now, see, Nyx… that's where the problem is…" He moved fast, faster than she had expected. Nyx cursed herself for falling for the move again. Nik's easygoing attitude often hid those deadly skills.

He pushed her against the wall, arm on her shoulder, his heavy body pressing hers into the unyielding wall. She could fell every taunt muscles in his body. "I don't want to be your friend, Nyx…" His dark head dipped low and she felt his tongue against the base of her neck. "Will you still tremble if I lick you here? Will you simply melt into my arms?"

"You're trying to distract me…" She gasped and her fingers curled against her sides so she didn't give into the urge to tangle her fingers into his hair.

"Is it working?" He smiled against her skin. "Come on, Nyx… I know you want me just as much as I want you."

"No." She pulled herself away and stared into his eyes. "Nik, you broke my heart. And it hasn't been healed ever since." She had never told anyone, not even him, what he had done to her and she hated herself for admitting now.

"Nyx…" For the first time, Nik had nothing to say.

"You can't heal it," she whispered sadly when he reached out to touch the skin covering her heart.

Then she pulled away before she gave in and yield.

--&--

Aithne turned two on a chilly day in the late winter, just before Spring took over, spreading warmth and joy into Haven air.

The little girl curled into a tight ball on her narrow bed adjacent of Keira's room. There was a small smile on her face and her hair hung limp around her pale face. It was honey gold, like Jak's hair had once been, but the tips of that golden were strained aquamarine like her mother's.

Her little, almost too thin body, shivered slightly as she roused herself from sleep. Aithne was an early riser and this day was no different. If anything it just made her all that more excited to get up.

With a small yelp of excitement she hopped out of better, smiling into her gray room. Her new toys from the children at her daycare littered the floor, little bodies of dolls and popup books. She didn't know why but her caretaker at the daycare had cried when Aithne had accepted all those gifts.

She snuggled deeper into her warm silk pajamas—her mother's early birthday to her—and gave a small happy dance around her room.

Then she stole down the hall on light fairy feet, making tracks for her mother's room. She opened the door quietly and slipped in, pressing her hands to her lips to cease her rising giggles.

Keira's bed was big and Keira was curled up on the middle, much like her daughter. Aithne pulled herself onto the bed gently, not wanting to wake her mother yet. She crawled up to Keira's side and looked into her face.

Her mother's face was streaked with tears that had created a dark line down her pale cheeks. Aithne didn't think much of it. Every time she went into her mother's room in the morning her face was like that. She assumed all mothers cried like that, never knowing anything else.

"Momma?" Aithne asked softly and rocked Keira's shoulders with her palm. "Momma?"

"Jak…" Keira mumbled before her eyes fluttered open and she found herself looking at her daughter, who had been given Jak's eyes and shape and nose and Keira's chin and mouth and facial structure. "Baby…"

"Not baby now!" Aithne said proudly, and held up two fingers. "I two now! Big girl!"

"Oh, you are, are you?" The smiles came so easy to her when she looked into Aithne's face. Keira knew without her daughter she'd be nothing but a broken woman. In her need to hold her daughter, she flipped Aithne onto her back and tickled her stomach.

"Momma!" Aithne's laughter filled the room, light and free. She pushed away at her mother's hands, swatting them playfully.

Suddenly very emotional, Keira buried her face into her hair. "So big, Aithne… you've gotten so big." When the little girl's dark blue eyes reflected worry and concern, Keira made her face smile once more. "Wanna go get ready for your party?"

"Yay!" Aithne shrieked and raced down the stairs. Keira took a moment to compose herself and then followed her daughter into their downstairs rooms.

The next five hours were spent making preparations for Aithne's birthday party. Little things, like balloons and ribbons, were added to their small kitchen and Aithne and Keira struggled to make a cake.

"Where's my favourite cherry?" a voice demanded as their front door opened.

Aithne looked up from her task of mixing the cake batter with glee shining mercilessly in her eyes. "Uncle Sig! Grandpa!"

Samos and Sig walked in, each carrying a rather large present under their arms. It was never discussed why Aithne took to calling Sig uncle, it was just accepted. It saved them a lot of explaining, explaining Aithne was too young to understand.

Besides, it didn't change her love for them both.

"Presents!" she screamed as Sig dropped his onto the floor to catch her as she dived into his arms. He swung her up in the air as she screeched with glee. Samos, meanwhile, bent down and gathered both presents up in his arms.

Keira reached over and pulled them under the table for later. Aithne would be impatient for them, of course, but she would have to wait until later to open her gifts. Hopefully, her guests would keep her busy.

Around noon the guests started to show up. There weren't many—Keira had to be sure to invite only a small number of people or the press would be there and she didn't want to expose Aithne to that. Some children of the Wastelanders who had known Jak during his life…

…And, of course, Tess and Maelia.

"Aithne!" Maelia screeched, racing into the kitchen as her mother entered the room laden with gifts enough to make any small child cry.

She was a spunky girl, Maelia. She neither had sheer blonde hair from her mother nor bright red locks from her father. It was a mixture of both, giving it a strawberry blonde look. Those strawberry locks bounced around her soft face in tight, small ringlets. They never ceased to humor Tess, who loved to pull at a ringlet and watch it spring back into place.

"Mae!" Aithne said, unable to pronounce the rest of her friend's name. The blonde reached out and the older girl caught her fingers with her. They leaned into each other's faces and giggled with glee.

"Happy birthday, Aithne," Tess said with a bright smile and wisely handed Keira Aithne's gifts. After all, Maelia's birthday had been only a few months earlier and she knew first hand about girls and presents.

"Thank you, Aunt Tess," Aithne said politely, mostly because she was busy glaring at the present that was being hastily pushed under the clothed table.

"Daxter couldn't… come," Tess admitted and didn't bother making up an excuse for her husband. In the past two years, Daxter had found every reason to stay away from Aithne and Keira. When he did see them he was almost like his old, sarcastic self, but Keira and Tess and Ashlin and Torn recognized Daxter's façade.

He was kind to his wife and a… good father to his daughter. But there was something in his eyes that seemed off, a light extinguished that had always been there before. And now that it was gone, it was almost as if Daxter was fading into black.

Keira reached out and stroked Tess's upper arm in a sisterly fashion. Their friendship had become only stronger in the past years. They needed each other to survive the harsh life that Fate had dealt them. And it showed in the friendship of their daughters.

From the moment they had first met, two months after Aithne had released from the hospital, they had been inseparable. Aithne trailed after Maelia like a lost puppy dog and Maelia was amazed to have someone who loved her so completely.

It was, Keira often that, just a circle. Daxter had been Jak's best friend. So it simply made sense that Maelia was Aithne's best friend.

"Did you make the cake?" Maelia asked, motioning to the bright pink pasting on the birthday snack. "Looks yummy!"

Aithne beamed up at her, pulling at Maelia's arms. "Wanna play?"

"Sure!" Giggling, they raced into the family room, determined to make mess out of the new toys Aithne had been given.

Keira and Tess were content to watch them. Sig and Samos began to handle setting up drinks and plates for the Wastelanders and their children, most of whom had been tempted to go over and see what Aithne and Maelia were playing.

There was another knock of the door and Keira greeted Ashlin and Ryu. As the little boy pouted up at his mother, Ashlin explained Torn's current position with Metal Head unrest in the Wasteland.

With a smile of understanding, Keira bent down and placed her hands on her knees to look Ryu in his bottled green eyes. "Do you want something to drink, Ryu?"

She felt bad for the little boy. He was the oldest child at the party, and by a good two years. And that wasn't the only reason. Ryu was the son of the city's leaders. There was no way for him to find many friends. He was in the palace most of the day and not many children lived there. Those that did were a good ten years older than Ryu.

And he was, after all, tough-ass Torn's son…

"No thank you," Ryu said as politely as he could through gritted teeth. He and his mother had had a huge argument on the way over why he had to go to some bratty girl's birthday party. One that he knew he would pay for when they got home.

_"Because she's Jak and Keira's daughter… and we owe a lot to them…"_ Ashlin had paused, considering her son. _"Do you remember Jak, Ryu?"_

He had nodded. Ryu remembered Jak, vaguely. He remembered how Jak had ruffled his hair affectionately and had given him the Metal Head skull hanging in his room. And he remembered the almost friendly banter he and his father had had together.

So he shut up and allowed himself to be dragged to the party.

"Ryu! Ryu!" Maelia screeched and made a dash across the carpet, leaving Aithne at the mercy of Wastelander children. She threw her arms around his neck and they both toppled to the floor.

As she began to nuzzle his neck, Ryu pushed against Maelia in a very boy-like fashion. "Get offa me!" He wasn't the polite little boy any more. His eyes went hot with undignified rage. He struggled to escape from under her.

"Aw!" Maelia cried in sadness. "I love you!"

No one was sure how Maelia's tiny girl-child crush on Ryu started, but it had been bothering the boy ever since the first day she had wrapped her arms around his neck. Maelia seemed to only enjoy Ryu's distaste for the crush, and perhaps that was part of reason she crushed on him so.

"Hi, Ryu!" Aithne greeted as she managed to escape the horde of children. She smiled at him in an almost tender way.

_She's Jak's daughter_, a tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother said in his head. "Hello," he said with a curt nod. He didn't like girls, but he respected Jak and so he would extend the offer for his daughter.

Maelia frowned in childlike envy, but she was Daxter's child after all. The emotion fled her swiftly and she grabbed Aithne's wrist in glee. "Cake time, Aithne! Everyone's here!"

"Mommy!" Aithne screeched, turning to her mother.

Keira smiled from her spot beside Ashlin and Tess. Then she pulled Aithne into her arms and everyone moved into the kitchen for cake.

"Your very lucky," Ashlin said as Aithne began to unwrap her presents. "She's growing up very well. She's beautiful, Keira…"

She sighed deeply. "I know. I thank the Goddess everyday for Aithne. I don't know what I would do without her… but I… I can't help it. I cry myself to sleep every night. I tell myself he wouldn't want me to… but I… can't stop…"

"No one blames you, Keira. You lost a husband. You lost Jak." Ashlin felt her own tears prickling her eyes and cursed her weakness. "You should cry. I don't think there'll ever be a time when you don't mourn him."

"I don't cry because I love him anymore, Ashlin. I'll always have that ache in my heart… but I really cry because…" Keira paused, drawing a deep breath. "I cry because I know that Aithne will never know her daddy. All she'll know is the hero the city knows. She'll never know the man, the father. Her daddy."

"Keira…"

Aithne looked up at her mother, hearing voice. It was soft spoken and far from her current spot. But somehow she heard it, like someone had taken the words and placed them next to her ears. As Ryu and Maelia argued over her toys, Aithne stared at her mother in a mixture of shock and confusion.

_Daddy…?_

--&--

Crea lay on her makeshift blanket under the grainy sand of the desert. She wore looser clothes and had ripped off the sleeves of her shirt to survive the heart. Her hair reached her lower back now, but she had managed to pull them into pigtails low on her head with ripped strings of her shirt.

Two years… she had been after Venn for two years and she still hadn't found him… the jerk.

She pouted into the night sky. This was a lot harder than she had thought. She thought she would only have to wander around the desert for a few weeks before she found him. Then she would be able to head back to Nyx and let her know everything was alright.

But she hadn't and she wasn't leaving the desert until she did. Crea was very stubborn, like her sister, and she had said that she found find Venn first so she was going to find Venn first.

And when she did… she would hit him, hard on his thick skull.

That made her smile. She could imagine Venn's surprise when he greeted her with open arms and she placed her fists into his face.

Movement kicked her senses into red alert. She jolted awake, groping for her guns. She found them and pushed herself to her feet, trying to adjust her eyes to the consuming darkness of the desert.

"Show yourself, you meanie!" she shouted into the darkness and trembled when she received no answer. "I'm not afraid of you!"

Then there was movement to her side this time. Crea gave a scream and dropped to her knees, covering her head with her hands. What if it was a giant, man-eating Metal Head? Or a Sage-Harmona patrol officer? Or even worse, _a spider_!

"Okay, I'm a little afraid," she admitted to whoever it was in the dark. "But not that much. Don't come any closer or I'll… ah… scream and I scream _loud_!"

"Crea?" The voice was strangled with surprise and it was male and it was powerful and maybe a little tired and annoyed. And it was familiar, very familiar…

"Jak?" she cried… and smiled. "What in Sage-Harmona?" She reached into the darkness and felt the thick fabric of his blue tunic.

"I need to ask you something…"

--&--

"Then Ryu said that my toys were stupid!" Maelia cried at the dinner table in the Naughty Ottsel apartment, crinkling her nose in distaste. "I don't love him anymore. Boys are stupid!"

"Yes," Daxter agreed and stabbed his Yakkow meat. "Boys are really, really, really stupid. Don't ever date them. In fact, stay as far away from boys as you possibly can. They're trouble and stinky."

"Okay!" Maelia agreed, more than happy to comply with her father. It seemed to Tess that Maelia would do anything for her father.

All because Maelia wanted Daxter to love her. Tess was sure her husband did, but… Daxter was so aloof when it came to Maelia. It didn't seem like it, with the way he acted around her, but his daughter could feel it. Daxter had built a solid wall around his heart and kept everything else from entering.

Maelia was brutally aware of it.

Tess felt tears prickle at the corners of Tess's eyes. All she wanted was for their family to be whole again. She didn't want her daughter feeling like she had to work for her father's love and she didn't want Daxter to go so cold whenever the possibility of showing emotion came up. She wanted the man she married back.

"Daddy…" Maelia said and frowned at her meat, her fork held absently between her fingers. "I love you…"

Her mother held her breath. This was what happened every night. Maelia would say those three simple words and offer her heart to her father on a silver platter. And every night it was turned away.

"Maelia…" Daxter looked as if words were choking him, blocking his throat in their haste to escape his lips. Instead, all he said was, "That's…"

The little girl didn't wait for the answer. She knew what was coming. Instead she jumped down from her chair and raced to her room, tears streaming down her face. Tess and Daxter stared after her.

"Daxter…" Tess began and she reached over to him, but stopped. She didn't know if she would comfort him or hit him. She wanted to do both.

"I can't…" he answered for neither the first nor the last time.

In her room, Maelia was curled onto her bed, covering her eyes and muffling her sobs against a pillow. Over and over again in her head a voice was screaming: _why, why, why? Why doesn't he love me?_

"I make him love me," Maelia whispered. "He will love me." She pressed her fist against her mouth to keep from screaming out in rage. Ashlin and Torn loved Ryu and if Aithne had a father he'd love her. So didn't Daxter love her?

_Why?_

--&--

It happened when Aithne was four.

She decided she hated her father. She decided that if he was alive she would have hated him until the day she died. As it was, the very thought of Jak made her blood run cold in her veins.

Already she knew about Jak from the kids at her school, and they had done a history report on him. Jak the Hero, Jak the Godslayer, Jak the Savior. Never Jak the Husband, never Jak the Father.

Maybe, Aithne had thought to herself, he hadn't really been a good father. Maybe he was alive somewhere and hiding from her because he didn't want a little girl. It was the worry all children had when they didn't know their parent, and it was natural. But Aithne didn't feel like it was natural.

Everyone had fathers who loved their daughter. Torn loved Ryu in his rough way and Daxter had to love Maelia, after the way he smiled at her. So why didn't she have a father?

Keira had tried to explain it to her when she was three and she had asked. She explained that Jak had died to protect the city from the Metal Heads—who Aithne already knew about from school—and that he had loved her very much and had wanted to be her father and how much she looked like him.

Aithne hadn't listened or believed her mother. Children often only hear what they want to hear.

All Aithne knew was that every night her mother cried herself to sleep, yearning for her husband. And she knew that every smile Keira gave her was marred by sadness… and it never reached her eyes. It was always clouded by sadness.

One night she was having a sleepover with Maelia and Ashlin had been visiting Tess for some reason or another. Maelia had ranted for over an hour about Ryu and their antics together while Aithne had rolled onto her back and nodded.

Maelia had curled up on her little bed shortly after, pulling the covers over her head. Aithne hadn't been able to sleep. Something had been bothering her. It had been bothering her for years. Ever since she had been told about her father.

_"He was a great man, Aithne. A loving, kind man even if he was rough around the edges. And he loved you, most importantly. And he would have loved to seen you grow up."_ That was what Keira had said about Jak.

And Aithne hadn't bought it. What kind of man loved a woman, a child, and then took risks and ended up dead? Not a very nice one, Aithne's mind concluded.

Unable to sleep and suddenly thirsty, Aithne slipped out of Maelia's room above the Naughty Ottsel and made her way down into the family kitchen. She was as quiet as a church mouse, not wanting to wake Tess… and especially Daxter.

Thinking about him… Aithne gave a small shudder. Daxter wasn't mean, in fact he was the nicest person she knew. That was the problem. Daxter was so nice that he wasn't even himself around her, she could tell. And every time Daxter looked at her Aithne had the strange feeling he was seeing someone else.

_Jak Mar…_

He wasn't even considered her father anymore. He was Jak Mar, a man who helped bring her into existence and nothing more. And she knew that he had been Daxter's best friend and she knew that Daxter saw Jak whenever he looked at her.

Aithne almost hated him for it.

"Have you talked to, Keira?" Aithne's ears perked as she recognized both her mother's name and Ashlin's voice.

She crept down the stairs, sitting on the narrow steps once she had reached midway. Holding her breath, afraid to alert anyone to her presence, she pushed her face against the wooden bars of the stairs.

"Of course. I always talk to, Keira." It was Tess's voice that answered, but she sounded almost tired. Aithne remembered the way she had looked after dinner, when Maelia had refused to look up at her father.

"How… is she? I don't see her enough anymore. We're so busy now. What with merchants from the outside villages and cities teeming in daily." Ashlin sighed in a mixture of regret and annoyance. "And Ryu and Torn are on the verge of exploding on each other. Torn wants Ryu to consider enrolling as a cadet for the Krimzon Guard and Ryu won't hear it."

"Keira is fine… as fine as she's been since Jak died four years ago… I wish I could say that she's gotten better, but she hasn't. She gotten worse, not much, but I don't think she'll ever be truly better." Tess, from the corner of Aithne's vision, took a long gulp of her drink. She and Ashlin sat at the kitchen table, all the lights off save for the circular one above them.

"They say when a lovebird dies… that its mate cannot go on," Ashlin mused softly, her hardened features going soft with a pity Keira would hate.

"I just hope Aithne never realizes that…" Tess replied, looking down. "I mean, you saw how she handled those reporters a few days ago when they asked her about Jak. She said she didn't know him, even if he was her father."

Aithne remembered that. It had been the anniversary of Jak's disappearance about a week ago. The media had hounded her mother and her for hours, sticking recorders into her face. When they had gotten Aithne alone, she had said that she didn't know anything about Jak since he was gone before she was born and they should stop bothering her about it. And she had said it with every ounce of hatred her young, child body could muster.

The media backed off.

_When a lovebird dies…_ She never doubted that her mother loved Jak, but she had never truly bought Jak loving her mother. In her mind, Aithne had envisioned the hero of Haven as a hardened, wise-mouth who didn't care about anybody but himself. It didn't explain why Jak risked so much to save Haven, but a child's mind didn't often care about those complications.

"Aithne might already know something about Keira's emotional state," Ashlin pointed out. "She's Jak's daughter… and Keira's daughter, too. She's got great genes. She's bound to realize something."

She didn't want Jak Mar's genes! Aithne almost stormed down the stairs and told them so. Instead she pressed a fist into her mouth and rushed back up the stairs. Silent tears ran down her face as she made her way back into Maelia's room.

In the darkness she curled into a tight ball on her cot on the floor, half soothed by the deep breathing of Maelia.

That was when it happened.

Lying there in the darkness, consumed with tears and rage and grief, Aithne realized something that had always been in her heart. Ever since she was two and had first heard about her dead daddy. It pushed against her ribs now, threatening to burst in her veins if she didn't acknowledge it.

And she did, almost gladly. She reached within herself and pulled it out. It was warm against her skin, even if twisted and dark. It soothed her in ways nothing else could. It was her own, no one else's.

It was hate… and it was created within her very core.

_I hate you, Jak._

--&--

The next day, it was Ryutaro Praxis's first, but certainly not last, huge argument with his father.

He wasn't sure when his hatred for violence started to bubble within him. Maybe it was simply always there. Maybe it was because he had seen what it had done to his father, his mother. Or maybe it was just destiny.

There was no one way to be sure, but whenever the question of the Krimzon Guard came into a conversation Ryu did his best to avoid it. He knew it annoyed his father, Torn, who saw him as the next Krimzon Guard General. Ryu couldn't muster the courage to tell his father he didn't.

Then, when Ryu was eight, Torn decided it was time to stop beating around the bush.

Normally, cadets were allowed to start training until they were fourteen but most had taken basic boot camps before they were ten. Or the serious ones, at least. Torn was determined to see his son in that category.

It was inspection day for the first time cadets. They were lined up in neat little rows below the balcony Torn stood on with Ryu. Their guns were pressed against their shoulders and their uniforms neatly pressed and their faces grim.

"What do you think?" Torn questioned, looking down at Ryu. Normally, the boy would be with his mother, going over reports and politics and the like. But today Ashlin had opted to explore the Haven Forest for possible housing.

"Ah…" Ryu wasn't sure what to say. "They look like nice little… soldiers. Do they even have personalities?"

Torn gave a frustrated sigh. Ryu's obvious disdain for the army had always upset him. After all, he had struggled and sacrificed to create it. "They're the future of the city, Ryutaro." Ryu flinched at his real name. "I respect them."

_Do you respect me, Father?_ Ryu wondered but kept the thoughts silent. _Do you love me even though I'll never be like them?_ "I respect them, too… but, Father, I could never… be like them. Join the Krimzon Guard."

"And why not?" Torn demanded, but kept his voice mild. He didn't want to yell at his son. Yet. "You don't want to follow in my footsteps?"

"No." It was harsh and Ryu knew it, but it was the truth. "I hate guns and I hate fighting and I hate violence. I like politics and poetry and reading…"

"My son…" Torn said and almost choked on the next words. "The politician."

"I can't be like you," Ryu said and his voice hitched. _Can't you accept me for who I am?_ "I can't…"

"Not like me, Ryu, like the rulers before you. They made this city strong. They built these walls and protected its people…"

"Yeah, and covered them with blood," Ryu muttered with an annoyed frown. He looked very much like his father then.

Torn glared at him, his body humming with anger. "Show respect for what they did," he snapped. "Many men died for this. To make sure you could say that."

The anger burned a hole in Ryu's chest and tears filmed his vision. He held them back, drawing them into his throat, because he knew they would only annoy his father further. "I don't want to be you! And I never will!"

"Give it a chance!" Torn returned, his own voice raised.

"NO! I know what I want and this isn't it!" Ryu spun on his heel and made a mad dash from the room, racing as fast as his legs could carry him.

It ran over and over again in his head. Why? Why? Why? Why couldn't his father love him for who he was? Why couldn't he just understand that no matter how hard Torn pushed Ryu would always be Ryu.

When at least he found himself in the heart of the palace, he took deep, calming breaths and settled his raging heart.

There was no way he could ever join the Krimzon Guard, not like Torn wanted. But Ryu was a young boy and he loved his father very much. Something inside him would not let him simply give up on earning his father's love.

He'd do it somehow. Somehow he'd show his father just how good a man he was, even if it wasn't in his way. He'd do it Ryu's way, but Torn would be proud none the less.

Torn loved his city, he loved Haven. Ryu would earn the people's love. He would make them clamor for his name, yearn for his time of reign, and in turn he would be given the respect and love of his father. Torn would see that Ryu didn't have to be a soldier to protect the thing his father loved most. He would be himself to do it.

But it didn't comfort him. Ryu somehow knew Torn would never respect anything he did unless it came from honors earned in the Krimzon Guard. Ryu couldn't join the Krimzon Guard, not even for his father. He would not destroy himself for Torn, no matter how much he loved.

Even if it was the last thing he did, Ryu swore, he'd gain his father's love.

And Torn would see Ryu for who he was.

The next generation.

--&--

In Sage-Harmona, as the moon took her position above its roofs, an eerie silence descended on the city.

It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen, barely able to believe it would. The people had locked their doors, aware of something deadly going on within the heart of the city.

Inside the palace, only moments before, there had been screams and the sounds of clashing swords. Silver against silver, battle howls, and the whimpers of women as they scrambled to save each other.

Now it was silent. A perverse silence that had been forced upon a normally busy palace, filled with the hustle and bustle of servants working to keep the palace alive and thriving.

Bodies littered the ground. Some in silver chain mail—soldiers who had had an inkling of what would take place—and others in simple bed shirts. They had, for the most part, been caught unaware and the horrified looks in their eyes reflected that much.

Most were older soldiers, the younger ones having chosen to side with the conspirators of the coup, and the younger soldiers had shown their respect by giving the veterans a swift and painless death, wounds raging from across the neck to a stab in the heart. Only the personal soldiers of the traitor had taken any pleasure in hurting the veterans.

All of _those_ soldiers had been low in ranks and felt they had deserved a better place. When that place had been offered they hadn't blinked. They had even taken a twisted pleasure in seeing the shock on the veterans' faces when they realized who had betrayed them.

The throne room was empty. Neither the king nor the queen had been there, though several older soldiers had been there to defend their symbol of monarchy. They had been slaughtered mercilessly by the traitor's personal guards, gutted and thrown onto the throne they died to defend.

Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi smiled with grim satisfaction, his boyish face lighting up in what could have been handsomeness if it wasn't for the blood that had been splattered across his cheeks.

That was from the king. He had found both the king and the queen in their son's bedchambers, along with the queen's sister. The sister had given the tiny heir, then only five, to a servant and the young girl-child had escape through a hidden passage way through the wall.

The queen and her sister had huddled in the corner as the king had taken a sword up to defend them all. Kent-Sai had taken pleasure in fighting the man. And he had enjoyed ramming his sword into the king's stomach and watching as he collapsed onto the floor, his wife's name the last thing breathed from his lips.

His attention had then turned to the women. The sister had rushed at him, throwing herself at him in her rage. Kent-Sai had stabbed her in the back when she pressed her body against his, grappling for his sword.

He had given the queen a fetal wound in the stomach as she had rushed over to her sister, trying to stop the bleeding. Then he had left her there, dying, to seek her son. It wasn't hard. The servant girl-child had been killed by a stray arrow, embedded deep in her bosom, with the little boy sobbing against her flat chest.

With grim determination, he had taken the boy and thrown him from the palace windows. He listened with a satisfied nod as the screams were silence by a shattering splat. With that, the last threat to his coup d'état was annihilated.

Now he returned to the last living royal within the city. The queen was crying, holding her sister against her one side and her king against the other.

"Now, now," Kent-Sai said and whipped the blood trailing from her mouth. "Come on, die with honor. You're the last grand queen of Sage-Harmona, my beautiful lady Ginyrina. The bards will sing songs about you for years to come."

"M—my son!" the queen rasped, choking on the blood that flooded her esophagus.

"He might have felt something for a split second, but I don't think he realized he was dying." Kent-Sai smiled in a soothing way. "Your son died fast, Ginyrina."

When she began to sob again, Kent-Sai took her chin in his fingers and kissed her, tasting her tawny scent and the cooper of her blood. She clawed at him, drawing a thin line of blood across his nose, but he didn't pull away.

Then she went limp against him and the movement of her chest ceased.

"Well, men," Kent-Sai said and faced his soldiers as they looked on in a mixture of admiration and horror. "We have a city to recreate. Sage-Harmona will be as it once was. Glory to the city, men! Glory to us all!"

Slowly, the cry rose up among the soldiers until it was a powerful yell that stemmed through the entire city. It hit the ears of every man, woman, and child. They shuddered in horror at would they knew was happening and the fact that they were helpless to stop it.

_Glory to Sage-Harmona!

* * *

_

A/N: Those does Part Two begin. And it begins with a blood bath. I killed three semi-important characters in one chapter! Wow, I am a bitch. XD And just wait for it… the angst is just gonna keep on coming.

**Act VII:** Crea finds Venn. Whatever happened to Nik and Nyx all those years ago? And two mysterious characters come to live in Haven City.

**Reviews:**

**Specter Von Baron:** hmm… interesting quote. Remember that as we dive deep into a dark, dark world of angst, angst, and—yep, you guessed it!—more angst!

**Light-Eco-Sage:** while, Crea knows but it'll be a while before anyone else finds out Jak is still alive. Like a whole part.

**Eco Child:** no, no. Jak doesn't have amnesia. That's too over done. I won't tell you why he's 'dead' but it _will_ be revealed. Though Jak doesn't have a big speaking part in Part Two, he's disappearance is extremely important to the story on a whole.

**Hellmouth2:** Aithne have powers? We'll see.

**Red Mage 04:** you'll have to stick with me through Part Two. That paragraph is the only time we'll see Jak for a while, though he is mentioned a lot.

**Glorfindel Silverleaf:** very slowly, more and more of this plot will be revealed. I have a few surprises in store that I don't think anyone sees coming, including several characters that won't even be mentioned until Part Three. Oh, and I love Venn. Love, love, love! He's freaking awesome!

**Maieve Avvi:** ah yes, Aithne is such a wicked awesome name. Alas, why is that not my name? And yes, oh yes, Aithne is going to be a force to reckon with. But… whether that is a good or bad force is yet to be seen.

**Teh Kitsune:** ew… you're sister? Nik would be highly insulted. And just two years? Honey, think more like… er… you'll see. As far as Venn goes… yes, I did get his name from the Wolf Tower books. Best series ever. I wanted to use Venn, but I didn't want that really, really, really long name so I named him Venneron, which is shorter actually.

**Lyzz2nwn:** no, Jak shall not be dead! Aithne's name is Celtic so it probably was used in the dark ages. I dunno. I saw it and was like… I must have it! I must! So I named Keira's baby Aithne. XD


	7. Get It Done

**Disclaimer:** Own nothing, I do. Seen the movie, I have.

**A/N**: I know. A little late on the update, no? Yes. But! I have a good reason for it. XD See, I've been on a _Star Wars_ hype. Seriously, I didn't think Episode I and II were half bad—not nearly as good as the original trilogy, of course—but Episode III… good Lord in Heaven! That movie f-ing rocked! If you haven't seen go see it! I don't care if you like Star Wars, if episode I and II makes you cringe, or if you've lost all faith in George Lucas. The movie with resort all faith!

And then, you know what? I finally got **God of War** and sweet Jesus and on a cross! I couldn't put it down. It was violent, it was sad, and it was the best game I've played in a really, really long time—because Kingdom Hearts 2 hasn't come out, damn _Square Enix_ or whatever the hell their name is. You can make three new Final Fantasy games and about seven sequels, prequels, and side-stories to Final Fantasy VII but you can't give me the frigging _one_ game to Kingdom Hearts… bastards. And you know something, VII was that good. Sure it was, _pretty_ good but that doesn't mean it warrants seven freaking branches! Sorry, I was ranting. I do that. Anyway, **God of War**, get it. Now. Best game _eva_!

* * *

**Act VII: Get It Done **

A deep shudder went through Crea.

Sage-Harmona was before her, towering about her in its looming way. She remembered the first time she had walked through the city gates. Her mother had just died, killed by the rampant of the Phoenix, with her sister and father in tow. She had been afraid of it then and she was afraid of it now.

Without realizing what she was doing, she stroked the little scar on her wrist. The scar was the only physical reminder she had from the Phoenix. When she had watched the flames consume her farm and burn her mother, she had bit down on the delicate flesh. She bit down as hard as she could, her teeth reaching the bone.

Crea stopped, staring down hard at the jagged white scar. No point in brining up the past right? _Better stop now before you get all upset, girl!_

So she shook her head and pushed the thoughts off.

And besides it wasn't like she was going in there, right? There was no way Venn was in a place like Sage-Harmona. He wouldn't be caught dead there. And if he was in there… then he probably _was_ dead. The people within Sage-Harmona didn't care much for the nomadic tribes within the desert. Before the mess with the Phoenix there had been small fights between Sage-Harmona and the desert tribes.

But there was something about Sage-Harmona that made gooseflesh rise on her arms. It wasn't that she had always hated Sage-Harmona—it had been, after all, her home for most of her life before Eris's rise to power. But looking at it Crea couldn't help but feel that there was something… _off_ about it.

There was nothing unwelcoming about Sage-Harmona, well nothing more the usual. But it just seemed like there was something dark wrapped around it. It felt new and old at the same time.

"Dun like it," Crea decided with a delicate sniff of her nose. No, she wouldn't go in there. She wasn't ready to. There were so many bad memories stored within her brain and she wasn't ready to relive them just yet.

Besides, who knew how the royal family would react to seeing her within the city? Then they would know Nyx was alive. And then they might ask both her and her sister to reenlist. Crea knew that Nyx loyalties lied with the Holy City now—and hers did, too—and she would decline that offer.

Who knew what kind of turmoil that would create?

Nodding mostly to herself, Crea turned and decided to travel deep into the desert. Rumor had it that there was a stoned city in the center of this wasteland that the desert tribes could meet at without fear of persecution.

Those rumors had never been proven true or false. The waste was so vast that no one had ever made it to the center alive. The desert people knew how to drill for water and the secret locations of waterholes. They knew how survive in the desert in ways no one else even thought about.

Hopefully, she would find Venn or some other desert tribe before that or she could be in serious trouble.

She walked about a mile before the sand storm hit. They were wild and unpredictable, attacking anyone caught unaware.

Crea gave a small shriek and grabbed her thick cloak from her rucksack. As hard sand pelted against her face, she dragged on the black cloak. She brought the cloth hanging loosely on her neckline to her mouth to guard it against the sand.

There was no other choice but to keep walking. If she stood and waited out the storm, she was likely to get buried. If she kept walking it was possible she could walk out of the storm or into its eye, which, well still not a good thing, would not be as wild as the storm circling it.

"Yucky, yucky sand!" Crea told herself as she lowered her head to battle the raging winds.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the sandstorm stopped. It lessened with each passing second until it was only a gentle, welcomed breeze against her face.

The heat burned her face, but Crea welcomed them more than the sand grains. She took of her cloak and tied it around her narrow waist. Her boots sunk low into the sand with each foot she took.

"Hot… hot… _hot_…" she chanted softly, running her fingers over her blistering neck. Her hair was almost bleached blonde, having been exposed to the sun for almost three years in her pigtails.

But then, something happened…

Crea glanced up and then did a double take. The blinding light of the sun blinded her for a moment, but then she saw it. Moving out of the light and into her viewpoint. There was the sound of thick, turning wooden wheels and the dark hide of horses shone in the bright light of the sun.

A caravan…

Grinning, Crea rushed forward, waving her arms. She cried the only word she knew it the language the desert people spoke—_friend_—to try to gain their attention.

The horses halted and lowered their hands, panting. They were used to the sun, but that didn't mean they had to enjoy it. Any rest they were given was taken and gladly.

A young man hopped down from the first wagon. He wore a long, thick trench coat that would have made anyone else die of sunstroke. But if anyone was born for the desert, then it was him.

"Venn!" she cried and rushed over to him, swinging her arms.

The boy looked up at her and smiled widely. He was fourteen now, a year older than her, and his thick, wavy mane of jet-black hair was sun-kissed with the gold of the sun. He had a wiry body frame that seemed gawky as he grew, with legs and arms too long for his still-growing body.

He picked her up. Though he was only about four or five inches taller than her, her thin body and his strength allowed him to pick her off her feet and swing her in the air. "Crea! I've been looking for you _forever_!"

She giggled as he lowered her and hit him in the arm. "Lair. I've been looking for you _forever_! Where have you been, you big meanie?"

"Everywhere," Venn answered and his face broke into a grin. "When we woke up, it was obvious what had happened. That, and we met someone from this… Holy City place who explained every about everything."

"I lived there a while ago with Nyx!" Crea pointed out with a wide grin. "She's still there but I left to find you!"

"Well, what are you going to do now?" He raised his dark brow in a way that reminded Crea of Nik. That half cocky, half arrogant, half mocking look.

"I dunno… I hadn't thought that far…" She looked around at the people filing out of the wagons in Venn's caravan. "Can I go with you?"

"Of course!" Venn said and took her wrist. "If you didn't ask then I would have had to insist. After all, I told everyone I'd find my future wife soon."

She frowned suddenly, remembering the promise he had given her thousands of years ago after only a day of recovering from a deadly disease. "Venn, I told you before that I—"

"Come on, Crea!" He pulled her to his caravan, choosing to ignore her protest to his words. "Everyone wants to meet you!"

"Venn…" Crea sighed and felt a small smile tug her lips.

How typical.

--&--

Gareth considered Nik from across the long desk. They had been going over reports from Sage-Harmona and the training condition of the men.

Things weren't looking good for Sage-Harmona.

"So far, none of our spies have been able to infiltrate the city. We're working on that. But we have received no further communications from the Yoshimoro family." Gareth raised one of his well-defined dark eyebrows. "What do you think?"

"I hate to admit it," Nik answered with a ragged sigh. "But everything points to a coup. I can't imagine someone willing to destroy people like the Yoshimoro family. They were good, good people…"

"Many people do things for greed and power, Nik," Gareth pointed out. He knew what lengths people would go to secure power.

"Not people from Sage-Harmona. Everyone there loves the Yoshimoro royal family. Everyone respects them. And everyone there knows what a load of bull power is. We've seen it first hand." Nik ran a hand through his hair. "I can't think of a single person who would kill… anyone in that family. Goddess… didn't they have a son? No more than five now."

"Yes," Gareth answered, thinking back to that tiny bundle tucked into Queen Ginyrina's arm. "I don't even know his name, but I remember her son."

"They wouldn't name him until he was at least a year old," Nik answered. "And then, it's just a private name. When he's about eight the family would allow him to pick his own public name. The private one would only be known by his personal guard and wife and possibly his children."

"And he would only be five now…" Gareth shuddered, picturing Sala dying protecting their son or daughter. "It would take a strong, evil man to kill an innocent."

"I can't think of anyone in the army who would sink so low to betray his sworn crown." Nik bared his teeth at the thought. The army was his home, the only people who had accepted him with no questions asked.

"It's possible that it was someone who wasn't in the army. Maybe a politician or a citizen." Gareth shrugged. "Someone who doesn't like the idea of Sage-Harmona relinquishing its power."

The dark-haired youth was silent, eerily so. It was unlike Nik to look so serious, his brows furrowed in concentration. There was rare anger flashing in his gray eyes, darkening them to almost black.

"I don't believe this!" Nik thundered at last, jumping from his seat in anger. "No one should be able to go against their crown and kill innocents. I want to know who it is so I can destroy them with my bare hands!"

He turned and stormed from the room, brushing pass Sala without so much as a flirty smile or head nod. It was almost as if he didn't even see her.

"Nik…" Sala turned and looked at her husband, her eyes sad. "Sage-Harmona, I presume?"

Gareth sighed deeply as his wife walked over to him and settled herself into his lap. "Yes. Reports all point to a hostile takeover, meaning the royal family would have been murdered. That explains the sudden security tightening over there."

Sala buried her head into his neck, yawning. "I hate to agree with you… but it would seem so." She raised her head and looked into his eyes, suddenly serious. "What are we going to do?"

"Wait it out. We can't do anything until we have facts. And we won't have facts until we get some spies into that city. And that may take a while." Gareth ran his fingers through her hair.

"I wish things were simple," Sala said wistfully.

"So do I…"

--&--

Later that night, Crea streaked across the desert. Venn's caravan had decided to camp near a well-known, but rarely used, oasis.

Venn was currently lounging on a rock overlooking the waterhole. What Crea had gathered from Venn's tribe men he did that often.

"Hey, Venn," Crea greeted as she swung herself up onto the rock, curling her knees under her chin. "Whatchya doin'?" She turned her head and glanced at him.

"What I normally do. Thinking," Venn answered and smiled over at her. "What are you doing, Crea? You aren't normally the one to stop and think."

"I've changed!" Crea protested and gave him a semi-angry glare. Then it was ruined when her face broke out into a grin. "But I still don't like thinking like you do. I like to shoot things!"

He laughed. "Good to see you haven't changed."

"What were you doing so close to Sage-Harmona, Venn?" Crea asked suddenly. "And you were moving in the direction _to_ Sage-Harmona. I thought you hated cities."

"I do… but news has been spreading through the desert." Venn sighed and looked away, considering. "Something bad is going down in Sage-Harmona and it would be in my tribe's best interest to be prepared for it."

"I got the same feeling," Crea answered. "I was there before I found you. Something bad, bad, _bad_ is happened there." She bit her tongue. "Nyx and Nik aren't going to like it. Nik especially…"

"Nik…" For a moment Venn's face darkened. "You mean, he's alive?" Crea blinked in confusion and nodded. "So he… didn't go looking for me?"

"What? No. He came after Nyx. He didn't even mention you to…" Suddenly her eyes went wide with shock. "Oh, I'm sorry, Venn! I am sorry! I didn't think!"

"No, it's not your fault. I guess Nik wouldn't come looking for me. After all, we hardly know each other and all…" Venn looked upset, but only a little bit. He hid it well with a small smile. "I suppose it'd just complicate things if he came here…"

"But you want him to, don't you?" Crea demanded and took his arm. "I mean, Nik is… he is… he's your…"

"I'm glad _you're_ here, Crea!" Venn said, breaking off her sentence. She jumped back in surprise when he reached for her hand. "I mean, I'm going to marry you and not Nik so you're the one that is supposed to be here."

"Venn!" Crea swatted his hands away, laughing. "I'm not marrying anyone!" She laughed when he leaned forward and tickled her. "St—stop it!" She rolled onto her stomach and shrieked with laughter.

"Go on, Crea!" Venn urged and refused to relent in his tickling. "Say you'll marry me! We're made for each other, Crea." He smiled in amusement as she bucked against his hand, trying to free herself.

"Uh-huh." She finally managed to escape his hand. She lifted her head and looked at him with a small smile. "You're only fourteen, Venn! And I'm thirteen!"

"Oh, I didn't mean we had to get married now." Venn looked at her as if she was quite silly. "But there's no point in starting the courtship now, right?"

"Venn…" Crea frowned, deeply. "I'm not getting married… _ever_." She didn't know why, but it seemed important that she didn't. After all, love had ruined so many lives. She couldn't let it ruin hers… _again_.

"I'm sure I can change your mind," Venn said confidently and Crea shook her head in disbelief. "But, until then, goodnight, Crea. Tomorrow I've decided to postpone our trip to Sage-Harmona. I'm not looking forward to going."

_When did you become leader of this caravan?_ Crea wondered, but before she could ask Venn was making his way back to the wagons, his dark-clad body all but blending into the desert night.

Then she remembered that she hadn't seen Venn's father since that day…

It brought the memory back…

_Crea had had fight with her sister. Nyx had been moody since Nik had left and Crea had wanted to go out into the desert, to get away from the surrounding walls of Sage-Harmona. Nyx had refused._

_So, in anger, Crea had run away. She slipped passed Sage-Harmona's guards and ran as fast as her legs would take her out into the desert._

_She didn't know how long she ran, or how far, but she managed to survive a day and a night out in the desert with only a small container of water strapped to her thighs._

_The next day, however, didn't go as well. She managed to survive two hours out in the blistering heat before she had collapsed from dehydration. It occurred to her she had made the biggest mistake of her life and she was going to die as a cause of it._

_But when she managed to awake from her coma later she wasn't in the sand anymore. She was on a slim cot under off-white sheets._

_Then she was aware of the boy putting a cloth onto her overheated head. Venn looked as he always did, smiling and handsome and sure of himself. He smiled into her eyes when he saw that she was awake and touched her flaming cheeks._

_"Mornin', city girl," he said with an earnest smile. "I'm Venneron… er… everyone calls me Venn."_

_"Cr—Crea," she managed to rasp, her throat raw and aching._

_"Drink this," Venn ordered softly and handed her a chilled glass of water. "Only a little bit. Let your body get used to having fluids again."_

_She slurped it up, greatly. Nothing had tasted better than that cool water slithering down her throat. When she finished, Crea gave him her most dazzling smile. "Thank you very much…"_

_Then a big, strapping man with a dark beard had walked in, introducing himself as Venn's father, Atla, leader of the desert clans. Crea explained who she was and where she was from._

_After she had rested and was healed back to full health, Alta and his band of nomads had taken her back to Sage-Harmona, to where a worried and annoyed Nyx had been waiting for her._

Crea smiled at the memory. Venn had become her very first friend during her small stay with Alta and his desert folk.

Later, during Eris's rise to power, Venn's immune system had been attacked by a disease Eris had spread among the tribes. Alta's group had managed to drag the dying boy to Crea, who had begged Nyx to help him.

When he had been recuperating in the city, Venn had explained that Alta, his father, had died defying the harpies. He had been pushed into the water of an oasis and the harpies had held him down until he had drowned. Venn had rushed into the water after him, trying to draw the harpies away. They had attacked the boy and given him the earliest form of the disease that would later become the poison in their claws.

She supposed Alta drowning hadn't counted as Eris's fault, even if her harpies had held him under.

That must have been why Venn was the leader now. Crea wondered how he had handled waking up without a father and a people to lead. No doubt, Venn had taken it in stride, taking what his father had taught him and his own bred-in-the-born leadership skills. And the desert people seemed to be handling it well enough.

With a shake of her head, Crea followed Venn into the caravan.

--&--

Nik stormed down one of the empty hallways of the palace in anger. These were the older hallways of the palace and no one really came here.

Which was why he had stormed off here. He needed time to think, to clear his head, to control the rage boiling his blood. It twisted his heart and threatened to buddle and spew out its worst.

Sage-Harmona was his home, the army his family. When he had been nothing—just a bastard son with no roots—they had taken him in and given him a purpose. He owed Sage-Harmona and its army _everything_. Who knew what he'd be without them?

He caught sight of Nyx halfway into the hall. He skidded to a halt and blinked in surprise. She was supposed to be training recruits.

"Nik?" She turned and addressed him. She caught the wild animal look in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Without warning he moved and grabbed her before she could react, pushing her against the wall. Dealing with Nyx was better than dealing with the turbulent emotions raging through him.

And, truth be told, he had been bothered about what Nyx had told him. After that last conversation with her, Nik backed off. He hadn't expected her to say something like that or make such an admittance. Now he had to regroup and plan another offense.

He wanted to understand. Nyx had always been the one person he did understand.

"Why did I break your heart?" he demanded and her eyes narrowed in a glare. Nik didn't care. He even wanted the passionate heat in her eyes, anger or anything else. "Damnit, I want to know."

"Why does it matter?" Nyx snapped and jerked away.

"It matters a lot, damnit!" Nik replied angrily and shook her hard enough to have her teeth rattling. "I need to know so I can fix it."

"You can't!"

"Give me a chance, damn you!" Nik lowered his forehead to hers and said in a dangerously low tone, "Nyx, I'm very, very, very angry right now. Don't push me. Just tell me." She was silence and he gritted his teeth. "Tell me!"

"You left me!" Nyx shouted, and her eyes filmed over with tears. "You went away after the Phoenix and didn't even tell me!"

"I did tell you," Nik replied and pushed himself away from her before he did something he'd later regret. "I told you when we were fighting the Phoenix that I had to find out who I was, what I was, if we lived through it."

"But you just left," Nyx whispered and wiped ferociously at the tears fogging her vision. "You didn't say anything to me. Just up and left… after we… after you and I, all that we did together… it didn't matter to you. You just left when it pleased you and left me to pick up the pieces."

"Nyx, I left for you. Don't you understand? You knew who you were. You knew your father and your mother and who you wanted to be. I had a mysterious past. All I knew was that I was the bastard son a woman of a noble house; disowned because she had let a desert tribesman touch her. A tribesman I didn't know. I had to know him. I had to know about my genes, what I could give to our children whenever we started to progress into our relationship. I didn't want to give you nothing." Nik looked at his hands as if they disgusted him.

"You were all I wanted, Nik. The boy who greeted me at the steps of Sage-Harmona. Only that. I didn't care about your past." Nyx lowered herself to the floor and looked out into nothing, thinking of the past. "When you were gone I was so lost. I didn't know what to do with myself. I told myself that you would come back for me, back to what we had. But it was almost five years… and there wasn't a word from you about what you were doing or where you were. I told myself it wasn't because you didn't care about me, that you didn't care about my heart. But I didn't believe it."

"Nyx…" Nik joined her on the floor. "It was never like that. All that time, in the desert, looking for who I was, I was thinking about getting back to you. But I couldn't go back only half-complete… I couldn't until I knew who I was."

"Then you did come back," Nyx went on as if he hadn't spoken. "And you didn't tell me anything, about what you had done. You just kissed me and made me forget the pain of being without you. I let myself be with you again and I begged you to let me in, to let me know what went on in your eyes, but you never did. And then Crea brought Venn here…"

"My father was Alta," Nik said bitterly. "The leader of the nomadic people's most powerful tribe. He got my mother—a rich lady from Sage-Harmona—pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her, or me, when he found out about her pregnancy. He let her return to Sage-Harmona, disowned and shamed, and never once cared to look for her.

"When I found him I learned about Venn, my half brother and the heir to the tribe. Alta wanted Venn, Venn was the son of a respected desert woman and had her looks. I thought he would hate me, Venn, but he didn't. He wanted to be my brother and I couldn't but love him like a long-lost brother. Alta even began to accept me as his son. I didn't love the desert people, and they didn't love me, but I finally felt at peace with who I was." Nik looked at her softly. "Then I heard about Eris and I knew you would be on the frontlines. I had to go back. I left Venn with Alta and ran after you."

"But you didn't tell me about your heritage!" Nyx shouted suddenly, turning her head and glaring at him. "You didn't trust me enough to not judge your blood. You thought I was like every other city folk in Sage-Harmona! You thought I would hate you simply because of your blood."

"I didn't…"

"Don't lie, Nik. Don't…" Nyx looked away again, her chin quivering in anger and pain. "The only reason you told me was so I would stay and help heal your brother. You didn't do it because you wanted me to know. You did it because you thought you had to."

"Damnit. I didn't know how you react knowing your lover had some dirty desert blood in him. I thought… yes, I thought you would react like everyone else would. I knew the army would hate me and all my friends… I couldn't stand having you hate me… just for my father…" Nik ran a hand through his wild red hair, his eyes pained.

"I wouldn't have thought anything about. It would have been just another piece of you," Nyx replied sadly and curled her knees under her chin in a very Crea way. "I didn't help Venn because he was your brother, I didn't help Venn because he was Crea's best friend from long ago. I helped Venn because he was a little boy who was dying and that's all I needed to know."

"Nyx…" He reached out and roughly dragged her to him, pressing wild kisses to her hair, her forehead, her eyelids. "You have no idea how sorry I am… that day when Eris came, I went out looking for you 'cause I knew you were upset with what I didn't tell you. I wanted to explain everything to you, everything I learned about who I was… and then I found you and you were looking up at Eris as she flew over our city like the demon she was. You looked so strong, just staring up at her as she destroyed everything around you… I never loved anything more…"

She gave one long, shuddering sob, unable to hold it back within her chest. Nik bent down and pressed his lips against hers, not pressuring, not seducing, simply kissing with all the tender love that he felt for her.

It was his body that gave a shudder next. It screamed that he had waited too long to taste her again. And he agreed with it.

Still, he didn't let the urge to ravish take over. Instead, he stroked the side of her face as he deepened the kiss only slightly, just enough to feel the tiniest hint of pressure. She tasted like sun and raspberries and blood, a combination that had always suited her. Unable to resist he allowed his tongue to press ever so slightly against the thick bottom of her lip.

Almost withering against him, Nyx raised her fingers and locked them in his hair, opening her mouth. It felt too much like all those years ago, the secret kisses exchanged in the darkest, those hours of passion. Her tears caught in her lashes and splashed onto his cheek. Nik flinched as each one hit.

Then she was pulling away and scooting back from him, horror in her eyes. What had she done? A few soft spoken words and she was letting him do as he willed with her. Didn't she promise never to do it again?

"Nyx, please. I need you. I love you." Nik's eyes were begging. Begging for her love, begging her to understand, begging her to be with him. Because he did, he did need her. This mess with Sage-Harmona, his torn loyalties, and her coldness.

"I swore when I woke up in the desert and my sister was curled against my side and all those memories of us and the past were swarming into my head I would never let anyone into my heart again." She stood and looked down at him with the hardened eyes of a soldier. "That rule still stands."

"Don't say that. You've given your heart to your sister, to Sale and Gareth, to this city." Nik's face was clenched with anger and his eyes were ebony now, darkened in passion and rage. "And you had once given it to me. No matter how long it takes, Nyx, I plan on getting it back."

"You can't have it," Nyx retorted, touching the spot where her heart rested under her skin. "It isn't up for grabs anymore."

He watched her walk away with the challenge in his eyes.

When she was gone, Nik gave a long, vicious stream of curses, the likes of which no one had ever heard before. Those he had picked up from Alta and they were the only thing he had given Nik that he hadn't tried to hide.

Nothing was clearer now. It was just more screwed up. On top of the Sage-Harmona mess now he had Nyx's hardened, cold heart to deal with. And what made that little problem worse was that it was all his fault.

But damnit, he had wanted to protect her from that side of him. He knew that the army would have judged him, the people would have judged him. He couldn't, wouldn't, stand the thought of Nyx judging him. She was the one person he loved unconditionally and he refused to let his father's sins taint that.

And so he had caused an even bigger problem. Nyx hadn't been mad about the blood that had flowed through his veins, she had been enraged that he had kept it from her. Nyx's life revolved around trust and he had ruined that.

It was going to take a hell of a lot to get her back.

--&--

"Maelia!" Aithne shouted and weaved her way through the large crowd that had clotted the streets of the slums.

Of course, it couldn't be called the 'slums' anymore, what with Ashlin's new regenerating project that had given the slums a polished and classy look. The houses were clean from dirt and the roads were black with new asphalt. People were teaming into the slums now, it was cheaper and just as clean as every place else in Haven City.

The strawberry blonde turned her head, her tight, thick curls bouncing against her face. "Aithne, over here!" She waved one pale arm. Once Aithne was close enough, Maelia grabbed Aithne's upper arm and dragged her into a spot beside her.

"What's going on?" Aithne questioned, trying to see over the crowd of people.

"Someone's coming into the city," Maelia answered and her eyes were glowing with excitement. Aithne shrugged and replied with a 'so?' "Well, it's a man and his son, Aithne! The people say they're gong to ask for citizenship!"

That had Aithne gasping. In all the years since the Holy City and Sage-Harmona's existence had become known to Haven City, no one had ever tried to move into the city. Most people were happy with that as they didn't want to deal with these new sets of people ruining their lives. Merchants from the other cities sometimes came into Haven—and an occasional caravan of the desert wanders—to trade, and that trading was always welcomed. But no one had ever tried to live in Haven City.

"Wow, Mae-Mae, right for once," a new voice drawled and both Aithne and Maelia turned to address the owner.

"Ryu!" Aithne said with a grin while Maelia's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. Aithne didn't react to the disdain from Maelia and Ryu's almost cruel teasing. They did it often enough for it to become natural.

"How's it goin', tough girl?" Ryu asked and tugged the aquamarine tips of Aithne's hair. He grinned with the confidence all an eleven year old boy could muster. Then he looked over at Maelia and his smile became teasing. "You're looking positively horrid today, Mae-Mae."

"That's not what Jordan Carrion said," Maelia retorted, raising her chin in a superior way. She was only eight, but Ryu brought out the snob in her. "He said I looked hot and we're gonna get married."

The auburn-haired boy rolled his eyes, but Aithne picked up a flash of an odd emotion in his eyes. "He thinks any girl is hot! All you have to do is wear a skirt and he's in love." Ryu grinned at the angry look that crossed Maelia's face.

"Jerk!" she cried and pushed his shoulder. Ryu moved back one step and laughed. "I'm going to find my mom. See ya, Aithne." Maelia sent one long, seething look Ryu's way before disappearing into the crowd.

"You should just tell her you like her," Aithne pointed out as the curls disappeared from view.

"Don't be crazy, shrimp. No one in their right mind could possibly like Maelia. Expect maybe you…" Ryu grinned and ruffled her hair affectionately. "Come on, Aithne, don't you wanna see the newbe?"

Aithne nodded and followed Ryu as he made his way through the crowd. They made room for him, recognizing him as the future heir to Haven City. Ryu had already earned their respect. At eleven he had pushed for the slums remodeling and had found a sound plan to earn the money for a procedure.

They came to the front of the metallic door that sealed Haven City from the harsh wasteland outside. The crowd had formed a half circle around the doors.

Ashlin Praxis, along with Daxter and Tess and Keira, with her husband Torn stood in the center, facing the two people who had just entered. Maelia was there also, clinging to her mother's arm and peering down at the two newcomers in curiosity.

"Mom!" Aithne cried, abandoning Ryu in favour for her mother's arm. She came up Keira's side and gripped her arm.

It was a man and a boy, like Ryu had said. Only the man seemed old. Old around his mouth, old in his body, old in his eyes. He looked weary and worn, like he had been battered by war a number of times. Looking into his eyes, Aithne knew he had seen his fair share of battles. He looked fierce, with a sharp chin and narrow eyes and an angular body.

The boy was, as Ryu had said, only a year or so older than Aithne and Maelia. His face was downcast, hiding his eyes, but nothing could conceal the platinum blonde locks that shaped his face. They fell across his face in loose spikes, hanging limping over his eyes. His was long-legged with a lean body. His hand was in the older man's hand and though Aithne couldn't see his eyes, she could see his fingers were locking tightly in the wrinkly ones.

Torn stepped forward with Ashlin at his side. The Krimzon Guard soldiers had their rifles ready and aimed. "I am Torn North, General of the Krimzon Guard of Haven City. This is Ashlin Praxis North, governor of the city."

"I am," the man answered in a raspy voice that portrayed all the battles and deaths and wars he had seen, "Zen-Fai, a retired soldier. This is my son… Cyren."

The little boy raised his head at his name. His eyes were black coal but seemed polished like onyx. They were tired, as if he hadn't slept for days on end, and there was a quiet knowledge in those onyx depths.

"Zen-Fai?" Ashlin questioned in a voice much softer and welcoming than her husband's, though it was by no means warm. "… And Cyren? What brings you here to Haven City?" She raised her hand and the Krimzon Guards lowered their guns.

"The wars and politics of Sage-Harmona and the Holy City have tired me," Zen-Fai replied and Aithne found no challenge in believing it. "And I want my son to grow up unexposed to it. Haven City seemed as far away from it as we could get."

"So, you want citizenship to Haven City?" Ashlin questioned and at Zen-Fai's grim nod went on, "If I allow such a thing… would you and yours bring danger to our city?"

"No, ma'am," Zen-Fai returned with all serious politeness. "I was just a low class soldier turned farmer in a village outside Sage-Harmona. I doubt they even know we exist."

Ashlin frowned and shared a look with Torn, who nodded. "We will take a few days to consider your request. Until that time, you may enjoy Haven City and take room in the palace. If you are allowed to stay than you will be left to find your own housing."

"Thank you, Lady Governor," Zen-Fai answered. He looked over at Keira and a look crossed his face. "Might I assume you are Keira Kinover?"

"It's actually, Keira Hagai-Mar now," Keira replied and offered Zen-Fai a tired smile. "I haven't ever truly gone by that name."

"You have been talked about in the villages. The Goddess Slayer. She who wields the glaive," Zen-Fai admitted and Keira lowered her head in embarrassment. From the crowd Sig stepped out and moved behind Keira, offering her strength.

Aithne frowned. She didn't remember her mother ever having a… glaive—whatever _that_ was.

Shaking off those thoughts, Aithne stepped forward and smiled at the boy. "Hullo. I'm Aithne Hagai—" unknown to Aithne, Keira flinched when her daughter deliberately left out Jak's last name "—I think you're gonna like Haven City."

"I'm Cyren," the boy answered and flushed, the red seeping down past the collar of his shirt, lowering his head. "Thank you…" His voice broke off into a mumble.

She leaned forward and tilted her head so she could keep her eyes locked with his. "What's wrong?" She laughed a little when the boy shuffled his feet from embarrassment.

"I… I didn't want to move," Cyren admitted. "I liked our home."

With such a sad, lost puppy dog face Aithne couldn't help but smile in compassion. "I wouldn't like to leave my home, either." She took his hand and Cyren gave a very deep, very red, blush and glanced at the girl in awe. "Momma, can Cyren stay a little while with me?"

Keira looked into her daughter's smiling face and then over at Zen-Fai. "I have no problem with it. You don't mind, do you, Mr. Zen-Fai?"

"Zen-Fai, please Lady Keira," the old, tired man answered. "And, yes, I suppose it'd be alright for Cyren to go with your daughter for a bit. As long as he behaves himself." Zen-Fai sent Cyren a meaningful look.

"Yes, Father," Cyren answered and bowed his head in respect.

Aithne tugged Cyren behind her and reached out for Sig's hand. "Uncle Sig? Will you give us a ride to our home? I wanna show Cyren all of Momma's hovercars!" She looked over at Cyren and smiled brightly. "You'll love them."

"Sure, best cherry," Sig answered and ruffled her hair affectionately. He glanced over at Keira and smiled. "I'll look after the kid, Keira. No worries." Keira nodded in thanks. She had decided to go with Ashlin and watch the interrogation as soon as she had heard about Zen-Fai and his son.

It made her feel safe knowing Aithne was in capable hands.

Dragging Cyren behind her, Aithne hopped into Sig's sleek, hovercar as the big former Wastelander lumbered into the front seat. As Cyren's eyes widened in awe at the impressive machine, Sig gunned the engine.

"Wow," Cyren said at least as the wind tore at his hair. "We didn't have this at the village." He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Where's your father? Jak Mar, right? I heard stories about him."

Aithne frowned and looked away. Her eyes darkened in rage and grief. "He's not my father. Not really. He abandoned Momma and me."

"You mean…" Cyren frowned as he tried to understand what Aithne was telling him. "He just left you and Lady Keira? That doesn't sound like the Jak I heard."

The rage in Aithne's dark, dark blue eyes only deepened. "He loved the city more than Momma and me. That's why he died. He left Momma before I was even born to die outside Haven City. He loved the city more than my momma and so he left her and makes her cry every night and she doesn't smile any more." She curled into a small ball and hissed at a breath between her teeth. "I hate him. He makes everything bad."

Cyren stared at her, unsure of how to answer. Then, after a long moment, admitted, "My mom's dead, too. But I don't hate her. Father said she died of a disease that wiped out half of our village."

"She didn't leave you by choice," Aithne pointed out. "Jak Mar did. That's the difference. I can't forgive him. I can't tell Momma that, of course. That would just make her more upset, but Jak Mar is not my father."

No one noticed how Sig's fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

--&--

Keira considered Zen-Fai from the opposite side of a one-way mirror. Ashlin was questioning him. What did he plan to do in Haven? How was he going to support himself and his son? Why did he leave his village?

Despite herself, Keira felt for the old man. He looked the way she felt. Tired, battle-weary, and worn down to the bone. A soldier who had seen too much and loss too many. It reflected in his eyes and burned in her heart.

Perhaps Ashlin saw it as well. The woman had not lost her vigor or her love for Haven City, but there were times when Keira caught Ashlin looking completely spent, as if she was moments away from washing her hands of it. Keira wanted to take those callous hands and tell the governor she wasn't alone.

Without Jak everything was falling apart. Keira knew it. She watched it everyday. Sig was being pressured to return as leader of the Wastelanders and the relationship between them and Krimzon Guard was worsening and Daxter was so cold to everyone they felt the chill of it days afterwards.

Jak had been the string holding them together. Them, thick beads dangling on the thin air of fate. Jak's string had been cut, sheered off, and now they floated in an endless black void. Slowly, they were falling.

And she couldn't help but think: what of the children?

Ryutaro and Maelia and even her Aithne. Ryu was at edge with his father, Maelia felt unloved, and Aithne hated her father. They were children and yet they were already being stripped of their innocence, a privilege they were being denied. And it was their parents' fault. For letting destiny shape their lives inside of fighting it.

Hadn't the Goddess died so that fate and destiny would be in the hands of the mortals?

Torn walked her side and Keira's body screamed in relief. Torn was fighting this void that was surrounding them. He was clinging to the light and he was bringing it into their dark existences.

Yet, in his attempt to create his own life, Torn was destroying whatever hopes Ryu had for a happy future.

"Will he stay?" Keira asked as Torn stood by her side and together they watched as Ashlin continued her interrogation of Zen-Fai.

"Most likely. If he didn't have a son to look after…" Torn shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I'm pretty good at readying people. He looks like a burnt out soldier. I've seen it before. Zen-Fai's not gonna cause trouble if he doesn't have to."

"He's from the Sage-Harmona. Him and Cyren, right?" Keira frowned in consideration. "I wonder if they'll tell us about—"

"I doubt it," Torn cut her off. "If there's one thing that hasn't changed in thousands of years it's a soldier's dedication to his city. If he knows Sage-Harmona secrets he's not going to tell us."

"Oh…" Keira touched the thick glass separating her from Ashlin and Zen-Fai. "Do you think this is a good idea, Torn?" She glanced up at him and her eyes were vulnerable, almost like a little girl's.

He frowned, used to seeing this side of Keira. But then again, Ashlin had been saying how broken Keira had been after Jak's death. Torn hadn't wanted to believe it… because it was all his fault.

"Keira, I'm sorry…"

She blinked in surprise and the venerable look was replaced with confusion. "Why? What did you do?" She sounded as if she honestly didn't know.

"Jak…" he began.

Her shoulders stiffened and she looked away. "Torn," her voice was hoarse with tears. "Please don't. I can't go back there again…"

"I know. Damnit, I'm sorry, Keira." Torn pressed his forehead against the glass. "I've just been wanting to say it to you forever… I couldn't help it."

"I don't hate you, Torn. Jak wanted to keep this city safe, the people in it safe. He died doing what he thought was right." Tears fell across her cheeks but she made no move to wipe them away. "I just wish he wouldn't have left me behind."

What could he say?

Nothing.

* * *

**A/N:** I know. A pointless chapter all around. But I needed to introduce Venn. Venn is so cool! And now I get to play around with his character and I get to write his interactions with Crea! Fun! And the story of Nyx and Nik needed to be told.

**Act VIII:** How will Maelia react to discovering she had a brother she knew never about? And Aithne dives deeper into her hatred and bitterness towards just about everything.

**Reviews:**

**Hellmouth2:** yes, Jak _is_ back but not that kind of back. I know a lot of people want to know the hows and the whys, but I'm not giving anything away yet. You're just gonna have to keep ready.

**Red Mage 04:** aw, thank you! Jak does have some major work on the home front, don't 'e? And let me tell you, it ain't gonna get better.

**Glorfindel Silverleaf:** well, this story is meant to be morbid and depressing most of the time. It didn't start out that way but it ended up that way. What can I say? I like me my angst.

**Specter Von Baron:** well, I don't want to give _too_ much away. And that analogy with the actors is true. So true. Their roles _will_ be played out to the end… the very end… which will be bitter for some. Very bitter.

**Light-Eco-Sage:** what happened to Jak out in the Wasteland will be very important to the furthering of the story. Later. Not right now.

**RozeFire33:** XD why thank you, dear. I do try. And as far as Aithne hating Jak forever… looks like that, no?

**Maieve Avi:** naw, I would never kill Jak off. Make his life a living hell maybe. But never _kill_.

**Eco Child:** you know what the funny thing is? I'm a daddy's girl. I _adore_ my father. I held his hand whenever we went somewhere until I was like thirteen. And I still love to hang out with him. Weird considering how the father-offspring angst I have going here, no?

**Meowen:** well… I _do_ try.

**Toboe's pup:** don't be so hard on Daxter though, yeah, he is acting like such a bastard. It's the time. Daxter's a funny guy, yeah, but I don't think he can handle deep, tougher emotions like grief and rage. It just doesn't seem like him so I think he'd do just what he's doing… withdrawing to protect his battered heart.

**Cherie Duarte:** wait, if Dark Jak was Jak and Keira's baby and technically, since Keira _is_ married to Jak and everything that goes with him, that would mean that Keira's actual slept with her own… er… no I'm not going to think about that. I have _so_ had enough with the Oedipus Rex today… stupid Latin class

**Daxter the Otsel:** yes, this was aimed at the readers of Jak III. I try to explain what happened in that story, but so _much_ happened that there's no way I could get it all. I outlined the most important parts in the author's notes in the first chapter.

**Amity-Star:** at first I thought this was going to be a flame. But it wasn't! Don't worry, all those loops, holes, and twists will be filled up. And the plot-bunnies come out of nowhere. They just pop in my head. Too much TV.

**GoodMorningBeautiful2005:** if school wasn't pushing so much work on me and if it was the summer all this could be done faster…


	8. A System of Lies

**Disclaimer:**Oh… my… God! Guess what? I don't own the Jak series. They, like, totally belong to Naughty Dog! Oh, and I don't own Roid either. He is the property of Specter Von Baren… for, like, sure!

**A/N:** Yeah, school is now over! Well, actually today's Wednesday, right? School's been over for a week now. I'm really hoping to get another chapter out in the beginning of July. I want to get to part three before the end of the summer. Damn, you realize we only have two months before school starts again? I do anyway.

* * *

**Act VIII: A System of Lies **

Gareth smiled and twined his fingers in Sala's hair as she dozed against the pillars of their palace. She mumbled something under her breath but made no move to awaken. If anything, she buried herself further into the unforgiving stone.

"Come on, darling," Gareth said soothingly as he picked her up in his arms, one arm over her back and the underside of her knees. "Sleeping against the pillar isn't good for you. To bed with you."

"Tired," Sala mumbled, and buried her head against his neck. "So tired…"

"Well, that's understandable." Gareth kissed the top of her head as she sighed and fell back into sleep. "What with you being expecting and all…"

Sala smiled in her sleep.

She was about three months pregnant. They, meaning she and Gareth, had decided that they had better come clean before everyone started to realize it and became enraged at learning so late.

The fact was, Gareth and Sala had kept the secret to themselves as long as they could, relishing in knowing they had something no one else did. A baby, an heir, that the Counsel had always wanted and Gareth and Sala had created.

But it was more than that. The baby that grew inside Sala was a product of love and Sala had wanted to simply feel it growing inside her without worrying over its future. No doubt the Counsel would argue about how the child should be raised, what they would do if it was born a girl, and all those things Sala did not want to expose her baby to.

So they had held off the announcement for as long as they could. Sala was hoping for a boy, but not because it was males who were considered perfect for the throne. But because she loved the thought of a miniature Gareth running through the palace and wrecking havoc wherever he went.

In retrospect, Gareth wanted a daughter. Not because he wanted a miniature Sala—though the thought _did_ give him laughs—but because he could imagine himself doing all the things that overprotective fathers did. Chasing the boyfriends away, making sure she wore clothes that were unflattering, and just protecting her from harm.

Whatever child they had, Sala and Gareth would love it, male or female. For so long they had wanted a child and now they could finally have one.

So when Sala went into her third month of pregnancy and she began to have morning sickness, they decided that they couldn't keep the secret anymore. Gareth and Sala made the announcement earlier that day.

Much to the delight of the people.

There had been cheers and congratulations all around, nobles eager to see the next in the royal bloodline come into being. The common people were happy to see that their way of life would continue and another queen or king would be born.

Nik had clapped Gareth's on the back in happiness. _"Why to go, man. And it's about time."_ He smiled at Sala in his semi-flirty, semi-respectful way. _"Just don't piss of Lady Sala for a while, mind you."_

And of course, Sala and Gareth had laughed at Nik's antics. _"Now, Nik, how on earth would you know that?"_ Sala had wanted to know. _"Got anyone pregnant that I don't know about?"_

The young soldier's face had fallen. _"No, ma'am. I'm a one woman kinda man. And I don't start families with anyone other than the one I plan to marry… and I don't fool around while I'm wooing."_ He had than sent a meaningful look Nyx's way, who had jerked her head to the left and ignored them.

Sala and Gareth had shared a 'wonder what's wrong with them' look, which they had been doing for a while now. It was obvious in the relationship that was Nyx and Nik they were always taking one step forward and two back. It was obvious Nik was the clearly interested party, but the jury was out on Nyx. But, then again, with her it was never exactly easy to tell.

But they didn't meddle with that relationship. Sala and Gareth had learned the hard way what meddling did to people. It never ended pretty. Either war happened or a break in friendships. No, if Nyx and Nik were going anywhere, then they were getting there on their own.

"I wish Crea was here," Sala said absently as she struggled halfheartedly against sleep. "I bet she would have loved a baby."

Gareth chuckled, imagining Crea jumping off the walls of the palace, screaming that there was going to be a baby for her to baby-sit. Then she would probably stop her bouncing to question her sister on how babies were made, which cause endless embarrassment on Nyx's part.

"She's what, nineteen now?" Gareth asked and Sala nodded against his neck. "It's hard to imagine her as anything but a little kid, but I guess she's a full grown woman now. I hope she found that Venn kid."

"For all we know she's settled down with him and had tiny, crazy babies," Sala muttered on a yawn. "Though I can't imagine Crea settling down."

"I always thought she'd be back in like three years, four at the most. Nyx did, too, I bet." Gareth carried Sala over to their chambers, in the back of the palace away from the rest of the nobles who lived there.

"I just want her to be happy," Sala pointed out as she was lowered into the thick cotton blankets. "That's all the matters."

"Yeah. Now go to sleep," Gareth commanded and with a half laugh Sala obeyed, drifting happily into sleep. "I'll watch over you."

He pressed a kiss into her hair and did just that.

--&--

When she was fourteen, Crea got her first look at the desert nomads' home city.

It didn't take a year to get to the center of the desert, it only took three or four months, but she and Venn had been much too busy exploring the desert to go directly to the desert city. They had gone to the sea, to the meadows just outside the desert, to every place that Crea was curious about.

Then she had wanted to see the city of Venn's birth and the young boy had beamed with pride. With no hesitation whatsoever he had ordered his caravan to make tracks for Donna-Rune, their home city. The nomads had hooted.

Now here she was, inside Donna-Rune, the mysterious desert city. It was like the bazaar inside Haven City only it was the entire city. Pull-out stands with tent roofs crowded the narrow dirt streets and merchants shouted out there barter.

The city itself was a lot less constricting then Sage-Harmona, the Holy City, and Haven City. Donna-Rune was built inside ruins and was open. Small, wooden houses had been erected inside the ruins and then in the spaces left the merchants had made their shops. The stones of the ruins gave the city all the protection it needed from the harsh winds of the desert and that was it. There were openings everywhere, an archway on each side of the city, for easy escape. Unlike Sage-Harmona, Donna-Rune was meant as a traveler's city, easy to come and easy to go.

Crea skipped down the dirt street, kicking the brown sand up, chewing on a sweet fruit that Venn had bought for her upon their arrival an hour ago.

So yeah, Venn hadn't stopped his 'courtship' of her. But he was doing it subtly. He was casual with it, giving her a flower here and there, buying her a candy, putting his arm over her shoulder every now and then. He flirted with her, teasing her in that way, using all his charms to get on her good side.

And truth be told, Crea rather liked his escapades. It was flattering to have someone who seemed to be so intent on gaining your favour. It boosted her ego quite a bit. And she liked Venn, liked him a lot, and she liked flirting back at him.

Sure, she still had no plan on getting married but Crea was sure, in time, Venn would come to see that. And just because she wasn't getting married didn't mean she and Venn couldn't have a relationship, right?

"Venn—" she began when she caught sight of his trench coat. Then she stopped and her baby blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Luckily, her hands were filled with fruit or she might have been reaching for her guns.

There was Venn, smiled and laughing. And there was a girl on his arm, giggling and blushing! She was pretty, all dark hair and bright eyes, wearing a revealing outfit to fight the desert heat. She leaned against Venn, mouth opened and laughing. Venn's wiry body shook with his laughter as he tugged on the girl's hair.

"The jerk!" Crea shouted. Just who did he think he was? Flirting with another woman when he claimed he was going to _marry_ her. Of all the—

Then Venn took notice of her and disentangled the girl's arms from around his neck. The girl sent a glare Crea's way as Venn made his way over to her, smiling as if nothing was wrong. Crea snarled.

"Hey there, Crea," Venn greeted and didn't take notice of the angry flush on Crea's cheeks. "How you likin' Donna-Rune?"

"Bastard!" Crea shouted and threw her fruit at his face on principal. Its pasty insides dripped down his face as Venn blinked in earnest surprise.

"The hell…?" Venn began as he lifted one of his arms to wipe at the fruit. "I bought that for you… hey, Crea!" The blonde haired girl had turned on her heel and stormed away from him. "Wait up!"

He caught up to her by running. Crea jerked her head to the left when he came up on her right side, her blonde pigtails swinging. Venn waved his hands in front of her face, but she ignored him.

"Oh great…" Venn said on a sigh and stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. "What did I do now, luv?" Crea did look at him this time, blue eyes blazing.

She stopped her strides and glared into his face. Venn smiled. She kicked him in the shin. "You think you can flirt with whoever you want when you're supposed to be courting me, you jerk?"

"Ow!" Venn said, completely consumed by the pain in his shin at first. Damn, that girl could kick! Then he comprehended his words. "I didn't think you would mind, Crea, honestly. You said you didn't want to marry me yet so I figured I'd sow my oaks and…"

"I don't want to marry you ever," Crea muttered and started to walk again. She glanced at him. "What would you have done if I flirted with a boy in Dona-Rune?"

"Is this before or after I kill him?"

"Hypocrite!" she shouted at him.

"Now wait a minute!" he began when she started to run, snagging her arm. Crea whirled and swung her arm out to hit him. He grabbed her wrist and smiled into her face with a cockiness that had her burning. "Now, just because I—"

But whatever Venn was going to say was cut off by a scream. The girl Venn had been flirting with earlier flew pass them and landed on ground, her body giving one spasm and then laying completely still. A small trail of blood bubbled from her lips and fell to the dirt covered ground.

"Is she…?" Crea began as Venn bent down to examine the girl. Venn gave a curt nod and when he looked up at her his eyes were burning.

Then they swarmed the city. Metal Heads, tons of them. Their golden skulls glowed in their heads and their jagged claws were reared for attack. Some already had blood dribbling down their dark, scaly chins.

"What are those things?" Venn demanded as he jumped to his feet, dragging Crea protectively behind him.

"Metal Heads…" she gasped as they started to attack the helpless Donna-Rune residence. "I have to do something!"

"Wait!" Venn started but Crea had broken away from him, dragging her pistols from her calves. She shot a Metal Head when it would have fallen on top of her and rushed into the fray. "Damnit!"

Wildly, Venn looked around for a weapon. He usually didn't carry them into the city. Obviously a mistake on his part. But then again, he only used arrows and the like as weapons and he doubted they'd have much of an effect on those things.

The harsh glint of silver caught his eyes. Leaning against the wooden stand of a merchant's shop was an axe. And not just any axe. A big axe. It had a red hilt decorated with gold and the blade of the sword was curved, almost scythe like.

He reached for it and brought it into the air. Sure, it wasn't his but if it helped him protect Crea he wasn't going to worry about.

Howling, he raised the axe above his head and rushed forward into battle, bringing it down on the closet Metal Head's skull. It cracked beneath the force and the Metal Head crumpled at his feet, giving a mighty groan before dying.

"Crea!" he shouted but his voice was lost in the rush of Metal Head shrieks and the screams of the people. Dust and dirt rose from the ground and blinded him and made his eyes water.

The blonde young woman rushed at his side, hopping onto the backs of Metal Heads for protection, doing intricate spins, and blasting holes into her enemies. There was a battle glint in her eyes as she let loose wave after wave of bullets.

It was actually kind of hot.

A Metal Head moved at her side, going for the kill, and Venn rushed forward, swinging the battleaxe up and into the tough hide of the Metal Head. It howled, loudly, and then collapsed into a heap at Venn's feet.

Unlike the other Metal Head he had slain, this howl was answered. Venn jerked his head up just as a large Metal Head stormed into the side, kicking down the stone walls. A wild dust storm dogged its heels.

The Metal Head was towering, elephant-like and deadly. Razor-sharp teeth shone white against its dark skin and it looked blood thirsty. It reared its thick legs and kicked an innocent pedestrian and sent the man careening head first into the wall.

"That's their leader!" Crea shouted, kneeling down against the gusts of sand that attacked her. Venn followed suit. "Take that thing out and the rest will scatter."

"Alright let's go." He glanced down at Crea's small pistols and made the quick decision. "Draw out its fire, Crea! I'll come up behind and go in for the kill." He showed her the axe. "This thing was meant for chopping heads."

She looked down at the axe, touched its blood-stained silver, and nodded. "Alright." She jumped to her feet and made a dash into the crowds, making a beeline for the Metal Head leader.

"Be careful," he whispered after her but he could hardly hear himself. Then he jumped to his feet and took the detour around the Metal Head leader.

Crea was doing her job, and well. The Metal Head leader was in enraged, going almost berserk as Crea danced out of its grasp, pelting her bullets against its tough hide. It wasn't even concerned with what went on behind it. It only wanted to crush Crea and the girl was much too fast.

Venn's fingers dug into a scale on the tail of the Metal Head and he lifted himself up, high up. The Metal Head gave a jerk but Crea danced closer to it so that its attention remained on her.

With the hilt of the axe caught between his teeth, Venn climbed the Metal Head. He pushed himself onto unsteady knees when he had managed to reach its shoulders. He wobbled like a first timer on a ship. But he gained his balance fast enough and made the last few feet over to the long neck of the Metal Head.

He straddled its long neck, the scales cutting into his thighs were he clasped, and pulled the axe into his hand. The Metal Head gave a jerk, realized what was going on, and Venn brought the axe down with all the strength in his arm. His shoulder hummed with pain as the axe threw itself into the golden skull.

Silence quickly descended on the battleground as the Metal Head leader gave a long, deep shudder. Then its long neck hit the ground, Venn clinging to the scales, followed by its body. As the dark-haired boy rolled away from the monster leader, the thing gave a howl that had the other Metal Heads retreating before it lay still on the ground.

Panting, Venn looked at his spoils. His body gave a shudder. He had never killed anything before and there was blood on his hands and the Metal Head leader's blood pooled at his feet. His stomach gave a long moan and he felt the bile raise his throat. Forcing it back down with embarrassment, Venn told himself over and over again that he had no choice but to kill it.

It would have killed Crea if he hadn't killed it.

Thinking of the girl, he turned to face her just as she came over to him, throwing her arms around his neck, heedless of the blood. "Venn! Venn, you were just wonderful!"

Needing that praise, Venn dropped the battleaxe and wrapped his arms around her back, burying his head into the crock of her neck. Crea smelt of a tangy fruit that pushed his tremors away.

When victory had finally been comprehended by the Donna-Rune survivors they rushed over to Venn like a country would have their war heroes. Pats were exchanged on both his and Crea's backs and praises rose into the sky.

_Our leader, Venn,_ everyone was thinking, _he will be our leader one day… and thank Dianadina._ And of course, they also had noticed the help Crea had given, but their pride was with their own.

An older man came forward when the cheers had died down. Other than Venn himself, he was the most respected tribe leader. His eyes were tawny and told of the prejudice and wars he had survived. They were bright with pride.

"Dianadina guided you today," he said and Venn bowed his head at the praise in embarrassment.

"Dianadina?" Crea repeated, surprised at the unfamiliar name. Some of Venn's tribesmen had said her name a few times before but she had never considered it until that moment. She tilted her head as Venn raised his own head.

"Our goddess of war and the hunt. We pray to her for swift victories," Venn answered and picked up the discarded axe from the floor. "It was her will that allowed me to find this axe to fight with."

"It is yours," the old leader said. "It has been passed down through Donna-Rune kinsmen for years and now it has chosen you as its holder."

"Thank you," Venn said quietly in respect and bowed once more. He grinned suddenly as he grabbed Crea's wrist and pulled her to his side. "But I couldn't have done it without my future wife, Crea Urban."

"Venn, I'm not—" Venn pinched her side and Crea bit down on her words in pain, tears prickling her eyes. In return for his treatment, she pressed her boot into his foot and was rewarded with the tensing of his body.

But around them the people were screaming, "Hail Venn, hail Crea! Defenders of Donna-Rune!"

--&--

When Haven City got hot with summer, there wasn't much to do outside. There were few trees—save for the ones in Haven Forest—and almost no way to escape the heat of the burning sun. Most people chose to stay in their homes, or under the tents of the Bazaar, or at the Naughty Ottsel.

Which was were Aithne, Maelia, and Ryu were heading.

Ryu had cut his Krimzon Guard training—he was only doing the basic boot camps because he had refused to join the actual Guard—to hang out with Aithne and Maelia as they romped through the city, trying to find something to do.

Their afternoon had started out at the lake in Haven Forest. Maelia had a new bikini she had wanted to show off to the boys swimming at the lake. Though she was barely thirteen her body had already begun to hint at the curves that she would have later. Laughing with Aithne, nibbling on ice cream, Maelia had stretched out on a smooth rock and lounged in the sun, making every hormonal teenager within her vicinity start to pant.

Aithne had sat beside her friend and felt a little awkward in her almost boyish body. She had curled her knees under her chin and wished she had curves like Maelia so that her black and pink bikini didn't feel like it was hanging off her body.

But at least she didn't end up fighting with Ryu, _again_. When Ryu had finally arrived, about a half an hour after Maelia and Aithne had reached the lake, he and Maelia had had a huge argument about something that hardly mattered.

_"Let's go to the Naughty Ottsel, Aithne,"_ Maelia had said and her brandy eyes glowered at Ryu. _"The lake isn't fun anymore."_ That caused the boys to groan and send their own glares Ryu's way, who had matched them with one of his own.

Just because it was fun to watch them argue, Aithne had invited Ryu along, who had accepted. With Maelia groaning in the lead, Ryu and Aithne had followed her to the bar. However, by the time they reached the Naughty Ottsel Maelia had forgotten all about her argument and anger at her friend.

"I'm bored," Maelia said and swung her legs off the heavy wooden table she sat on. Aithne and Ryu had taken seats on the opposite seats of the table. Maelia had changed into a summer dress while Aithne had stuffed on baggy, black pants.

"Well," Ryu suggested with a shrug, leaning against the erect wood of the table wall. "Go do something…"

"Gee, thanks Ryu, you're _so_ helpful," Maelia said and swatted at her tight curls of strawberry hair. "Remind me to ask for your help when I want to get a _stupid answer_!"

Aithne giggled, covering her mouth as Ryu's eyes lit with the challenge.

"You immature brat," he said in the fondest way.

"Bite me!" Maelia stuck her tongue out at Ryu. "You're the only one immature here, Ryu. I mean, don't you have any friends you age?"

Ryu's face darkened and the little warning bells went off in Aithne's head. _Uh-huh_. They had just stepped over the line of Ryu's personal space.

"No, because they're all in the Krimzon Guard." It was true. Most boys his age were already on their way to becoming official Guard cadets. Ryu was an outcast in his group for refusing to join the ranks and it was bitter subject for him. Ryu, having his own independent nature, was often the butt of many a joke because of his refusal to join the Krimzon Guard. Many named him a coward.

"Sorry…" Maelia mumbled and bit her lip. She liked to argue with Ryu, but she hated to make him upset. It wasn't hard to do with Ryu. "Why don't we check out the attic? I haven't been there in for_ever_!"

"Fine…" Ryu muttered in a bad mood.

Aithne sighed, and dropped her head. No one was ever sure what was going on in Aithne's mind anymore, but whatever the thirteen-year-old was thinking, it wasn't good. Her blue, blue eyes darkened in an odd mixture of thoughts and emotions that she never spoke out loud.

What she was thinking of burned from her skin. She thought how fathers ruined lives. How Ryu felt he was never good enough for his father and how Maelia thought she had done wrong in her life and her father couldn't love her because of it. Ryu hid it behind a soft, tender smile and Maelia behind her flirtatious attitude and smart remarks. But it was there. Aithne saw it ever time she observed them and the anger burned her.

She was a very angry girl, Aithne, but no one knew it yet. She had managed to keep it hidden under the surface, but it boiled there and often threatened to explode.

_All Jak's fault_.

That was who she blamed. Jak Mar. Her sperm donor—she called him that because she knew it bothered her mother and knew it reminded Keira who had left who—the man who had given her a few genes and then split. He broke Daxter and put the city in turmoil. Things… would have been different if he had enough guts to stay.

People had told her it wasn't Jak's fault. That he wouldn't have chosen to be dead, with a wife and baby on the way, but Aithne didn't care. She needed someone to vent her rage at. Someone everyone but _she_ knew. Haven knew her father better than she did.

"Come on!" Maelia said brightly, smiling as hard as she could when she saw Aithne frowning. "To the attic, Miss Pouty Face!"

"I am not—" The wind that rushed into her throat destroyed whatever words she had hoped to say as Maelia dragged her along, Ryu striding behind them. The attic was at the very tip-top of the Naughty Ottsel. Maelia had never gone there in fear that her mother would have then gotten the idea to have her clean it.

But Maelia did crazy things when she was bored.

She pushed the hatch to the attic open, boosting herself up on the slim rollout ladder that had tumbled down when the door had first opened. Aithne went next, excited to see what had been locked up there despite herself, with Ryu behind.

"Smells old…" Maelia grumbled.

"It's a friggin' attic," Ryu snapped and rolled his eyes as he took a seat besides Aithne. "What did you expect?"

"Shut the hell up!" Maelia screeched, pushing Ryu as hard as she could. "Ungrateful bastard!" Unfortunately for Ryu, he had decided to rock himself on the balls of his heels and was thrown completely off balance.

"Goddamnit!" he cursed as he tumbled into a brown box, sending its contents skidding across the floor. "Look what the hell you made me do!"

Maelia ignored him and bent down to examine what had fallen from the box. Her father's old receipts from businesses, some of her mother's notebooks, and some pictures. She recognized her face and groaned at the baby fat around her cheeks. Her hands itched to pinch the baby fat that she _knew_ was still on her cheeks, but she remembered Ryu was there and ignored the urge.

As she gathered up the pictures, her eyes fell to the one at the bottom of the pile. It was old and the edges were fading into brown. Instantly, she knew it was one she had never seen before. Raising an eyebrow, Maelia reached out and took it into her arms.

It was her mother, smiling, and her father, smiling. But Daxter was smiling in a happy way. A carefree way that made him seem unfamiliar from the man she had grown up with. Tess and Daxter were sitting outside the Naughty Ottsel.

A boy was in Tess's laps. He could have been a miniature version of Daxter. He was smiling and waving his arms while Daxter looked ready to burst out laughing at any moment.

_Who is he?_ Was the first thought that penetrated her suddenly foggy brain. _And why are my parents so happy?_ She had never seen them that happy, all laughing and bright and free. Her heart twisted in pain as her fingers began to tremble.

Aithne peered at the picture over Maelia's shoulder. "Who's that?"

Ryu's attention was drawn to Maelia as well. He noticed the sudden stiffness in her shoulders and her trembling fingers and the warning bells started to sound in his head. "What is it?" He moved her hair out of the way and looked at the picture.

_Oh…_

_My…_

_God…_

That was all he could think as he gave a choked sob. _Lee_. Waves of images washed over him. Laughing with Lee, playing with Lee, listening to his mother as she explained why Lee wasn't going to be around anymore. The hurt of the first loss he had ever suffered washed over him.

"Lee…" he managed before his throat closed up.

Maelia wheeled around and thrust the picture into his face, tears filming her eyes. "Who is he? Who is Lee? And why _does he look like MY daddy?_"

"Maelia—" She had the same eyes as Lee had and he didn't see her anymore. Now she was his long, lost, _dead_ friend.

"TELL ME!"

Did he have the right? Ryu didn't know. Daxter and Tess had never told Maelia about Lee. Daxter was unable to think about his son and Tess was unwilling to break the fragile thread that held her family together.

"Tell me," Maelia hissed as tears streamed down her face. She bit down so hard on her teeth that pain shot through her face. "Tell me down, you son of a bitch. Who the hell is Lee?"

In the tenderest of ways, more tender than he had ever been with her, Ryu brought Maelia into his arms. She fell against his chest in shock as he said, "Lee is… _was_… your brother, Mae-Mae. He died… before you were born."

Aithne gave a struggled gasp as Maelia jerked his head up. "What? My—my brother? I don't hav—have a brother!"

"You did. A long time ago. He died of… some sort of baby disease," Ryu answered, remembering he had never learned the name of exactly what had killed his friend. He hadn't really cared.

"Is that why… why Daddy can't love me? Because I'm not Lee?" Maelia demanded as her hands clenched together and the picture ripped in her fingers. Her body jerked spasmodically in Ryu's arms as she stared down at the picture of the brother she never knew she had. She sliced across her pale cheeks.

"Maelia, no!" Ryu held her body still against his, trying to soothe her. Maelia started screaming.

Aithne turned and ran down, out of the attic. She couldn't take it anymore. Lee… Maelia's brother, the first born. Why didn't she know? Why had everyone kept it quiet? Why did Maelia have to suffer?

It wasn't fair. Fathers were no good. Men were bad, bad, bad, bad. Love was nothing but pain. It destroyed you from the inside out. Everyone she knew was a victim of it. Maelia. Her mother. Daxter. Tess. Even Ryu. And then, on some level, Ashlin and Torn as well.

She wouldn't let it happen to her.

The building whizzed by. She ran blindly, unable to face Maelia. Maelia who was so twisted up inside because she wanted her father to love and he just… _couldn't_. Maelia who was like Aithne.

Because Aithne was twisted up inside, too. Her bones distorting on her heart. Because her mother loved her, but loved her husband more. Loved her dead husband more than her living daughter. Because Keira Hagai Mar cried herself to sleep every night because every morning she looked into the eyes of a man that would never return to her.

Rain hit her forehead as she skidded to a halt. She tilted her face toward the sky and let the cool droplets sprinkle onto her face. It soaked her clothes to her skin and her body shivered from the sudden chill of the rain.

"Aithne?"

The voice was vaguely familiar so she turned to face it. It was a boy. Platinum blonde hair mattered to his face head and dark, dark, dark eyes were wide and confused. Cyren. Zen-Fai's boy.

She hadn't seen much of Cyren since he and Zen-Fai had gained citizenship in Haven City. She had been too busy hanging out with Maelia and Ryu to give him much thought. And, for the most part, Cyren had been busy, too.

Once Zen-Fai had gained Ashlin's permission, Zen-Fai had bought the Gun Course from Tess since she had no need for it anymore, her attention focused on the Naughty Ottsel. Zen-Fai had fixed it up and made a business out of it. He was actually a very good gun mechanic, second only to Keira Hagai Mar who lived too far away for the people in the port of the city.

He also trained those who wanted to learn how to shot, but without the Krimzon Guard. And once every year he held a tournament for Krimzon Guard and civilians alike to test their skills against one another. So far the Krimzon Guard had pulled away four to two, though not from a lack of trying on the civilians' parts.

From the rumors going around—and by that, Aithne meant the giggle gossip she had picked up from the girls at school—Cyren was quite the gunslinger and mechanic. Also handsome, or so the girls sighed.

She didn't find a hard time believing it.

"What?" she managed as she tried not to cry in front of him.

Cyren thought she made a picture, standing in the rain with nothing more than a black and pink bikini top and sheer pants on. Cyren might have been far from Aithne's mind, but it was polar opposite for Cyren.

It was hard to forget the first kindness someone showed you. Though he had tried his best, Cyren often found himself hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl, looking for her uniquely colored hair.

He had wanted to go hang out by the lake with Aithne, maybe get her to talk to him, but Zen-Fai had said no. Cyren loved his father, but Zen-Fai was so uptight in a world of loose morals that if suffocated Cyren.

"Aren't you cold?" he asked and, cautiously, reached for her arm. She went to him without complainant. _He isn't_, she told herself,_ all tangled up in emotions._ He caught the tears in her eyes. "Are you crying?"

Without a word she leaned her head against his chest, just standing in his proximity. The rain came down over them as Cyren tentatively placed his hands on her arms in a small attempt to give comfort for something he didn't understand.

"What happened?" He wasn't sure if he had the right to ask. He wasn't friends with Aithne. But something told him to ask. They could have been friends, right? That counted for something.

"Everything is so screwed up, Cyren," Aithne admitted and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Everyone is so screwed up… I can't stand it anymore."

"Come on inside, Aithne," Cyren said gently, taking her hand. "Zen-Fai will make us some green tea. It doesn't taste so good, but it'll calm you nerves." He offered her a small, understanding smile.

"He won't mind?" Aithne didn't know Zen-Fai very well, but she remembered his stern features and cold eyes.

She looked so sad, standing there, hair covering hair eyes that were red and puffy and swollen. And she looked thin, too thin. She would have a runner's athletic body, but she was skin and bones. A set of bones sheathed by pale, pale skin.

Zen-Fai was strict, but he was not cruel.

"Of course not," Cyren answered and took her arm in a gentle way, steering her into the renovated gun course.

It had been painted a dark green color and the walls separating the courses had been torn down. Soft, blue mats had replaced the dirt floor and more rooms had been added. Cyren and Zen-Fai slept in rooms off to the side, a new feature, and the large one that had replaced the old gun courses acted as the training ground and tournament arena.

Zen-Fai was there, his gruff, military poise stiff as he examined a gun, cleaning the long barrel of it. He heard Cyren and heard the sounds of unfamiliar footfalls. He turned slowly, raising an eyebrow when he recognized Aithne Hagai.

"Father…" Cyren bowed his head slightly in respect. He had been raised to show respect to his elders.

As Cyren had promised, Zen-Fai did not ask questions. He took one look at the young woman shivering at his son's side and nodded. "Very well. Come on, young Hagai. You could use some tea."

When Aithne nodded she was answered by Cyren's gentle smile.

--&--

The kitchen was oddly quiet that night at the Naughty Ottsel. Tess felt the tension in the room and it didn't come from her. Nor did it come from Daxter who chatted away about his bartering in the Bazaar.

"More and more merchants from Sage-Harmona and the Holy City are coming, but they're not as interesting as these nomads that were there today. They know how to _haggle_." Grinning, Daxter ran his fingers over his shirt and said in confidence, "'Course, they were no match for the Daxter!"

"Mae-Mae?" Tess asked as she watched her daughter's fingers clench over her knife until her knuckles turned stark white.

Suddenly, Maelia looked up at her father across her, her brandy eyes darkening to almost black. "Who's _Lee_, Daddy?"

Tess gasped, choking on her own air. Daxter went silent, his eyes growing cold and far away, much like when Lee had first passed on. Silence wrapped its deadly fingers around the room's throat and held them, enthralled.

"Lee…" Daxter said, his voice weak and vulnerable.

"Maelia…" Tess began as tears prickled her eyes. How did Maelia know about her son? Who had told her?

"Who is Lee, Daddy?" Maelia whispered, her eyes blind with rage and pain. "Why didn't I know about him until today? Isn't he my brother? Doesn't that mean anything to you… or don't I matter at all?"

"You don't understand, Mae-Mae," Tess began and reached for her daughter's arm. "Let me explain what happened to—"

"It's been explained," Maelia hissed and jumped up from the table before her mother could make contact. She looked over at Daxter. "He died, didn't he? From a disease and then I was born. Do you hate me because I'm not Lee?"

"Lee he was my… my son…" Daxter said slowly, forcing the words out, looking up at his daughter but not seeing _her_.

"And I'm your daughter!" Maelia shouted and the world almost vibrated with her anger. "Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Maelia, you have to understand," Tess said and stood as well.

"It doesn't matter anymore! You'll love me, Daddy," Maelia said and glared down at her father before turning and running.

Tess didn't say anything as she ran after her daughter. When they were both gone, Daxter lowered his head to his hands and moaned softly. All his emotions were swirling out of control and he didn't know how to dead with them. A son who died, a wife who was aching, and a daughter he was afraid to love.

"God, what have I done?"

--&--

Maelia was curled on her narrow bed crying. Tess walked into her daughter's room tentatively, for the first time unsure of how to approach her daughter. It made a bitter taste well into her throat to know that she didn't know how to handle her daughter.

"Baby…" Tess took a seat on Maelia's bed and touched the girl's trembling back. Maelia jerked away. "Please don't pull away, darling. I love you."

"If you loved me, why didn't you tell me about Lee?" the girl whispered, staring at the moon through her window. "Why did Ryu have to tell me about the best friend he lost years ago?"

_Ryu… Ryu…_ but Tess wasn't going to be angry with the boy. Maelia had every right to know about her brother. She and Daxter had been wrong to keep it from her. Ryu had done nothing wrong. He had been the only one who seemed to understand Maelia's needs.

That burned her.

"We didn't want to hurt you, Maelia. He was dead months before you were born." Tess bit her lip. "Daxter was so distraught after Lee's death and I was hardly better. I just thought it was best if we didn't bring it up."

Maelia grinded her teeth against the grief that washed over her and squeezed her eyes shut. _Was I just a replacement?_ But she didn't ask her mother. She didn't have the courage to.

"Don't doubt that I love you, Mae-Mae," Tess said softly and stroked Maelia's back, pleased when the girl didn't pull away. "I'll always love you."

But she didn't say Daxter loved her. Maelia swore her father would love her, one way or another. She'd have the love she wanted. Daxter would look at her and not see Lee. He would love her because she was his daughter, one way or another.

She smiled suddenly, brightening. She would have all the love she could stand, Daxter's, Tess's, and everyone else she wanted. Her mother would treat her like a daughter and her father would love her like one.

"It's okay, Mommy!" Maelia said in a bright voice that sounded real and Daxter-like. "Sorry that I brought that up. It just came as a shock, you know. Tell Daddy I'm sorry too and that I love him, okay?"

Tess looked into her daughter's smile and never felt more frightened.

--&--

"I like it like this," Aithne said and patted the blue matted floor. She and Cyren had spread out on it, watching the communicators for news from the palace. "It's a lot better than when it was all dirty and closed off."

"You do?" He hadn't told her so, but Cyren had been worried about her reaction to the changes in the gun course. He knew from what Zen-Fai had said and the girls who visited sometimes that it had been a part of her relatives' lives.

"Uh-huh. I remember when I was really little my uncle Sig used to take me here. I liked to watch him shot but Mom said I couldn't do it myself so I go bored. And it was always cold here and the ground was hard and dirty," Aithne explained and smiled, flipping onto her stomach, spreading her legs until they brushed Cyren's in a friendly way.

Cyren, meanwhile, was trying not to notice how close Aithne was. Her proximity had his body temperature rising. He remembered catching glimpses of her during the days and wished Zen-Fai hadn't insisted in home schooling him.

"Good. Father has pictures of the way it used to be," Cyren admitted. "Storage room in the back. Ah…" Aithne turned her head and smiled at him and he lost his trail of thoughts.

"It's getting late," Aithne pointed out.

"Yeah… um… it is," he agreed just because he didn't have the brain power to argue.

Aithne sat up and crisscrossed her legs. "Thank you for letting hang with you for a bit, Cyren. We don't know each other… we aren't even friends 'cept for that one time when we were eight. So thanks."

"No problem." And he meant it. "I don't get out much so… I… um… I don't think we had a chance to become friends…" He gulped. "I think… if I was out more and not with Father so much we could be friends."

"I'd like to be friends with you, Cyren," Aithne admitted honestly. "You're funny and nice and your father loves you so much without keeping secrets from you."

She had told him about Maelia and Daxter and Tess and poor, dead Lee. Cyren had thought back to his mother, the woman he didn't know, and understood their pain. But he understood Aithne's need to escape it all more. Zen-Fai always seemed to be judging him, comparing him to something—though Cyren didn't know _what_—and he almost felt suffocated by that invisible obligation.

"Mind if I come by tomorrow?" Cyren flushed and turned his head, nodding. "Good. Maybe I'll bring Maelia and Ryu along, maybe I won't."

"I don't care, as long as you come," Cyren answered truthfully.

"The tea wasn't half as bad as you said it was," Aithne pointed out as she got to her feet and brushed the dust from her sheer pants. "And I gotta get home. It takes me a half an hour to get home and Mom will panic if I'm late."

"I'd drive you," Cyren mumbled as he shuffled to his feet. "But I don't know how."

Aithne laughed and patted his cheek, even though he was a good four inches taller than her. "I already know how to drive, race drive. My mom owns the fastest race team in the city. It's in the bones."

"Oh… okay," Cyren mumbled.

--&--

He watched the girl go, shivering in her skimpy outfit, and watched the boy watch her go. Then the boy turned, his hair flashing bright platinum in the dark night, and went back inside.

It wasn't hard getting into Haven City. For a place that hosted some of the world's finest heroes, their security was low. They had grown weak in their time of peace. He had not. He waited until the opportune moment and slipped inside.

Now he camped on the roofs of Haven City. No one ever went up there. There was no reason to. The citizens never considered to look _up_. And he exploited that, used it to fit his needs.

It gave a good view of the boy. He could keep an eye on the boy that way, made sure he kept out of trouble. It was important that he lived a long, healthy life.

_"Please… please… look after him… please, Roid…"_

He shivered, but not from the cold. The ghost woman's voice tangled on his skin and clotted his blood. He wanted to drag his nails across his tough skin and draw the tightening blood out of him.

"Rosalyn?" his voice was deep and powerful and told not of wars, but pain and hurt that he had suffered and would continue to suffer. A warrior. "Rosalyn… this is what you wanted, right?"

_"Roid… Roid…"_

It began to rain again. But he didn't mind. He tilted his head up to it and allowed the rain to splatter onto his face. It calmed him, cooled his raging blood, and sated the lust for revenge. There would be, he told himself, time for that later. But first, first he would take up the role of guardian. As _she_ would have wanted.

For a moment the rain had ceased, giving the city a foggy texture. Then it had started to rain again and the tranquil and surreal settings had evaporated and dosed in rain. He wondered if the girl had been covered in that rain, the little droplets of water clinging to her too thin arms.

She was Aithne Hagai-Mar, wasn't she? The daughter of Keira Hagai—or Kinover, depending on the city you leaved in—who was responsible for the destruction of the gods hands in the world.

But more importantly she carried the blood of Jak Mar, who had saved the world countless times. He had a hand in everything adventure that was well-known of. He had defeated Praxis, defeated Kor, defeated the god Erisen and his lover Eris and had seen the world begin to regenerate.

And he was also dead. Killed by Metal Heads—or so they said and he believed them. His legacy would live on, though, in his daughter.

He supposed he should have been happy with Jak Mar's passing, even though he wasn't. Jak Mar had done so harm against him. Not him personally. His people, yes, but not Roid. Roid hadn't cared about war like his fellow tribe mates.

The lightening streak across the sky and fell across his body. His almost-scaly skin glowed purple in the abrupt light, touched the hair on his smooth flesh. His skull—deep purple—glowered with his thoughts as he situated himself more comfortably on the roof. He stretched his long, built-for-speed limbs and tried to gain some sleep. He hadn't had a decent night's rest in so long…

Tracking down Cyren had been no easy feat. Zen-Fai knew how to hide himself well… but that was for the best, he supposed.

The lightening streaked down more and fell onto his face just as he closed his eyes. Sleep came begrudgingly, at last agreeing that he needed it. He, who would have everyone in Haven in a panic if they knew he was there.

A Metal Head.

--&--

A nineteen-year-old Crea rolled onto her side and moaned in her sleep, fighting a dream that plagued her. She was spread out on one of Venn's extra wagons that he had been kind enough to let her sleep in during the cold desert nights.

The blankets she had been given had been kicked aside and a trail of sweat ran down her tall, voluptuous body, her rounded, full breasts heaving.

They were outside of Sage-Harmona, but Crea didn't understand why. She had no wish to go into Sage-Harmona and she didn't see a reason for Venn to want to. As it was, Venn showed no express purpose of going into the city so she couldn't understand why he insisted on camping here for the night.

Now a nightmare had somehow wormed its way into her brain, making her cry in terror. Crea wasn't an eight-year-old girl haunted by memories anymore. She was a full grown woman being attacked by demons.

With a small gasp she jolted awake and in the darkness groped for her guns. Something wicked and evil prickled along her skin and made her shudder.

"Venn?" she called as he slipped into her wagon. She blinked but couldn't dispel the feeling of sickness that welled in the pit of her stomach.

The said young man raised his head and smiled at her. But Crea backed away. His eyes were red, glowing blood red that flashed in the night. Not Venn. Oh, not Venn. He reeked of evil and darkness.

She opened her mouth to scream, but the fake Venn reached out and clamped a hand over her mouth. Crea kicked her legs in protest and tripped, hitting the floor hard. Magick pushed against her skin, making her dizzy. She screamed against the hand and pushed back at the magick with all her might.

The hand over mouth changed and Venn's face shifted. He became old, wizened. His hand became wrinkly and its grip tightened.

"You're Crea Urban, aren't you?" the old man asked as Crea struggled. The magick he was pushing against her skin made her wild with fear. "I've heard about you, strong warrior, right? Well… I can't have you interfere with my plans. You need to learn to stay away from Sage-Harmona."

Her mind screamed in pain as power wedged between them, splitting her head apart. She felt the invasion of her mind and was helpless to stop it. Her body jerked in pain underneath him and for a wild, blind second she was free. Then his knee pushed into her stomach and all she could do was wither as she was attacked.

Every one of her memories flashed in front of her mind, but they were not bright this time. They were dirty, tainted. Twisted on themselves, every smile darkened and every bright memory stained with blood. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she was overwhelmed with the invasion.

Around her the world went black. Her body screamed out in pain. Every inch of her felt like it was being touched with knifes. The old man forced all her memories to surface. He saw every one of them, probed them, tore them apart, reshaped them to his liking.

And when he was done, he released her and Crea turned onto her side, sobbing silently. Blood ran down from her nose and her ears and she felt dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty…

_So… so… dirty…_

"Whatever goes down in Sage-Harmona, little Crea," the wizened man said as he stroked her face tenderly. "Stay out of it. I'd hate to have to do that again… or go after your sister in the Holy City."

Crea didn't reply. She just continued to sob, her fingers moving to pull at her hair. Blonde locks fell onto the wooden floor. He had taken Venn's face again and it loomed above her, twisted and sick and not Venn.

Then he was gone, disappearing into the air, leaving her trembling and weak. Her tears slashed across her face and she touched the blood trail from her ear. Crea had never felt so used in all her life.

_Mind-rape­_.

Any form of rape was cruel and wrong, but mind-rape was the worse. Rape just touched your body, but mind-rape knew every intimate detail that made you _you_. It took what you were and tore it apart until you felt like you were nothing. Every part of you was dirty, stained, and you could find no solace in the deep recesses of your mind. He had touched that too.

Crea could not feel herself anymore. She wanted to drown herself in water, to wash away the sickness. But it was _inside_ her, latched to her bones. Every memory he had seen. He had touched everything inside her. He knew about Nyx and Nik and Jak and Keira and Venn. Sala and Gareth. Her mother. He took Crea and touched her until her body broke into a million pieces.

Her fingers clenched into the flesh on her palms until the little puncture wounds produced blood. She wanted to bleed out all her blood, drain herself of it. It felt like he had _touched_ that. Every part of her, tainted. Destroyed.

And, in that moment, Crea lost herself.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, that was bit harsh wasn't it? Crea's get mind-raped. I am a bitch. Oh well. This is going to definitely help the plot develop and give Crea's character a total makeover. Oh, and put the romance of Crea and Venn on serious hold. How is she going to feel about the man whose face was used to destroy her?

**Act IX:** the romance of Nyx and Nik commutates, Keira and Aithne become divided, and Cyren gets some more limelight.

**Reviews:**

**Red Mage 04:** I've always thought that, too. But if Jedi didn't have to suppress their emotions and Anakin could marry Padmé without keeping it a secret it wouldn't be much of a story now would it? Any who, the movie has definitely fueled my love of angst.

**Specter Von Baren:** well, Roid has finally been put into the story. Of course, we won't learn about him until the start of Part Three, but he's in Haven City now.

**Laughing Hyena:** most of the otherworldly characters in my story _are_ from mythology. Mostly Greek and Roman since I know them best but I knew a bit about Norse mythology to create Lokin who is, yes, based on Loki from Norse myths. Eris in Jak III: Secret Origins is actually the goddess of discord and strife in Greek mythology.

**ChatterBox101:** because Nyx and Crea are my original characters I tend to be a bit meaner to them, giving them a rough life. Of course, I'm not nice to the characters from the actual series, am I? Oh well. Just don't expect for the sisters' lives to end in a fairy tale romance just yet.

**Hellmouth2:** when I don't sleep I tend to get my best ideas. I don't know why. And as far as a happy ending for this story…? I dunno. You'll just have to wait and see. It might not be happy for everyone…

**Eco Child:** my mother and I are the ones that end up fighting all the time. It's mostly because we're both stubborn and so different. I'm silent and anti-social a lot and my mother talks on the phone for _hours_. But we try to deal because blood is thicker than water, no?

**GundamWingFanatic90:** Jak won't be returning for a while. Part Two of my story is mostly about the character develop of my OCs and the effect Jak's disappearance has on his friends and family. His return will be in Part Three, where he will take center stage once more.

**Glorfindel Silverleaf:** Venn and Nik came up out of my mind fully formed. They were a combination of my favourite characters from all the books I have read, with their strengths and weakness. And their easy going attitudes I thought made perfect matches for Crea and Nyx.

**Teh Kitsune:** yes, they are brothers… half-brothers. And I totally understand finals. They suck, a lot. I don't mind fangirls (I'm a Johnny Depp fangirl myself). I just hate it when they destroy an original couple to indulge in their stupid homosexual smut shit that hasn't even been _hinted_ at.

**kouga-luv:** I have.

**Amity Star:** hey, no problem. I don't made constructive criticism, but I've become a bit defensive after getting hate-mail from people on the Jak fandom about how I'm stupid because Jak is either in love with Torn/Daxter/Erol.

**Maieve Avvi:** I would like to say soon… but then I'd be lying!


	9. Divide and Conquer

**Disclaimer:** nothing, do I own

**AN:** It is too late for me to beg you not to kill me? I am aware of how late it's been since the last update. Understand, no one is more aware than I am. There's no reason for it except that: life got in the way. School's a lot harder than it was last year and it absolutely takes up all of my free time. I also, my computer's been down since the hurricane and I haven't actually been on the internet since a month ago. I had to get my emotions and thoughts under control after what I saw before I could even think about writing. So yeah, that's why it's say late. Sorry about it! But I'm at an okay place now (for now) and I can update Jak IV with more regularity. Just don't be too angry with me!

Also, there's a special announcement at the bottom for anyone whose interest. Check it out!

**WARNING:** this chapter contains the f-word… a lot. Bad children! Beware! Also, get used to see this warning a lot…

* * *

**Act IX: Divide and Conquer **

Nyx jolted awake, her body giving a long, long shudder of pain. Over and over again in her mind something was shouting, _Crea, Crea, Crea!_ Her hair was damp with a cool sweat and her breath was heaving as if she had just run a mile.

Suddenly unbearably hot, she pushed aside her thick covers. Her body felt sticky and used, her limbs watery and arms heavy. She lay spread eagle on her bed, staring up at her ceiling as a thought ran over and over again in her head.

_Something has happened to Crea… something has happened to Crea… something…_

Crea, her little sister. Something terrible had happened to her, Nyx knew it. She could feel it in her core. She and Crea had been through so much, been together for so long, that Nyx knew her better than anyone else ever would. There was a special connection between them, a harmony of spirits, that allowed her to sense Crea on a profound level that was above even twin ESP.

Giving a small moan of pain, she rolled onto her floor and her head hit the soft rugs. The world tilted and an image flashed in front of her eyes.

_The girl-turned-woman Crea curled on a wooden floor with a white tent above her. Blood on her face and on the sides, fingers clutching at her hair, tears slashing across her cheeks. So much pain, no release from it. Crea couldn't found an outlet for the pain for it was in every part of her body._

"Crea…" Nyx moaned. "No, not Crea." Not her sister. Her sister couldn't be aching like that. Crea was not supposed to be harmed, not after all she had been through.

Shivering, Nyx climbed to her feet and wrapped her arms around her quivering shoulders. With soft, faerie feet she padded across her floor and into the hallway.

She walked aimlessly, afraid to go to sleep. She didn't know if she would dream of Crea again and she was desperately afraid she would. Nyx wasn't sure what she'd do if she _did_ dream about Crea. Maybe she wouldn't be able to handle it.

Without realizing what she was doing, she stopped at the nursery in the heart of the Holy City palace, the most fortified part of it.

Sedet slept there, Sala and Gareth's little son. He had been born only a few months before, healthy to a fault. He had a tuff of dark, dark, dark hair and Gareth's impossibly blue eyes that were more often than not hidden behind small eyelids as the boy screamed for his mother.

It made her smile. He was silent now, but sleep was the only time when Sedet was quiet. He had lungs that could shatter glass and he used them to his full advantage. He had more energy than any baby Nyx had known—not that she had known many babies—and he was always wrecking havoc in the palace, tossing food about, yanking people's hair and beards, and just screaming and screaming and screaming because he could.

With the trying times upon them, Nyx supposed everyone needed Sedet more than they realized. He was, at least, something they _knew_ wouldn't change for a few years. They could cling to that and love him with all their might.

Nyx kept her eyes on the baby almost the entire day. She couldn't be sure why, but something inside her _demanded_ she protect the child. She caught herself near him whenever she could be, ready to spring into action to defend him. And now she watched him as he slept, the deep, rhythmic rise and fall of his tiny, flat breast soothing her like nothing else could.

As the tiny baby rolled over in his sleep, Nyx was aware of the movement. She didn't turn her head because she recognized his footfalls. Her heart rose into her throat and she pressed her hands against the glass that protected the tiny heir from the outside world.

"What are you doing up?" Nik asked and his voice sounded drawn, tired, as if he had not slept for a while.

And she knew why. They had just received word of the usurp in Sage-Harmona. The death of King Quintin and Queen Ginyrina and their tiny son. And that the general Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi had named himself militant leader.

Everyone walked on eggshells around Nik now. They knew what the news did to him. He had had the entire regiment running hundreds of laps around the palace for days. In a way, she felt the same. Nyx's loyalties lay with the Holy City now, but it still hurt to know her once beloved and wondrous city had fallen so far.

It was even worse with Nik, she knew. He loved Sage-Harmona, respected it and what it stood for. Nik had never believed Sage-Harmona was sinking into the darkness and it was like a blow to the stomach when he was proved wrong. Now, the Holy City was preparing for war if Hirmoyarbeshi tried to extend his power.

"Something… happened to Crea…" As she said it, Nyx felt her knees give out beneath her and she collapsed to the ground, fighting another wave of tears.

Nik was at her side instantly, stroking her face and running his fingers throw her hair. "Crea? What are you talking about? We haven't seen her for six years. How do you know about her being in trouble?"

"I felt it… a special connection between us. I _feel_ her pain, Nik. Right here." She touched her heart. "Something terrible happened to her and she cried out for me."

"God…" Nik pressed a kiss to her golden head and closed his eyes, inhaling her scent. "And here I was hoping to romance you…"

"Stop fooling around," she mumbled against his chest as her heart constricted with pain once more. She sucked in a breath. "Oh, Crea… I feel you. So much pain… so much anger… so much confusion… so cold…"

When she began to spasm in his arms, Nik pulled back and looked at her face. Nyx had gone pale and she looked far, far, far away. Her eyes were darkened to cobalt and her skin grew cold with each second that passed. "Nyx?" he asked in concern.

She turned into his arms again and raised her chin. "Kiss me, Nik… please," she whispered and felt his body tighten in answer. "Please. I'm… so… _cold_…" She pressed her fingers to the back of his neck, drawing his mouth closer.

"Nyx, no…" He looked to the left as her lips caressed his neck and made him shudder with lust. "We can't. You're emotionally screwed up right now, Nyx. And if… I kiss you, I won't stop."

"Good. I don't want you to."

"What about tomorrow, Nyx?" he questioned, his eyes darkening with rage. "You'll hate me even more and I can barely stand it now."

"I don't hate you, Nik. I could never hate you. I just didn't want to be hurt again. I was afraid of what you could do if I gave you my heart." She pressed a kiss to his jaw, her tongue snaking out to lick.

"I'm so goddamn weak it isn't funny," Nik muttered. "But I'm going to have a taste of you if I have to go straight to hell for it. Shit, I've waited so long." He gripped her upper arms so tightly that she gasped as he captured her mouth.

It was the passionate kiss they had both been yearning for ever since Nik had first rolled into the Holy City. They fell onto the floor, Nik on top, Nyx withering beneath, and he used his mouth to have her panting, nipping, nibbling, licking.

"Oh yes… yes… yes… _yes_…" Nyx gasped as she locked her fingers deep into his hair. "Make me forget, Nik. Make me forget."

He gathered her into his arms and managed to stand on shaking legs. He bit her neck, sucking and soothing with a flick of his tongue.

When they managed to fall onto her bed, a tangle of hot limbs and eager mouths it was Nik who said first, "I love you, Nyx. Only you."

With blind eyes, she raised her eyes to his and he saw they were blind with passion and her body pulsed beneath his. "Nik. It's only be you, only you. I love you so much… an eternity, Nik. That's how long we've been waiting." Her arms locked around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Darkness sounded him and blood roared in his head. He sunk into Nyx's giving flesh and lost all other thoughts. Sage-Harmona fled from his mind, Crea fled from his mind. Every thought deserted him, expect Nyx's moans as she struggled with his clothes.

An eternity. Nyx had said they had waited an eternity. And she was right. It had taken them an eternity to come together again.

When she screamed, he covered it with his mouth and sent out to make amends.

--&--

"Hey, Crea, we're gonna—" Venn broke off when the said girl gave a jerky motion at the sound of his voice. "C—Crea?"

Puffy, red eyes rose to meet his and Venn didn't miss that flash of fear when she looked at him. He almost backed up in shock. Crea? Afraid? Of him? His mind rejected it and his body rebelled against it.

Why would Crea be afraid of him?

"Go away," she mumbled, her voice seeming far away and broken. "Just go the fuck away."

It wasn't so much that her language surprised him—though Crea had never said _that_ before—but the way she said it. She wasn't a happy, light-voiced Crea anymore. This Crea was hard and angry and looked ready to kill.

"What's wrong?" he swung himself into the wagon, the sunlight streaming in. It hit Crea in the eyes and she rolled onto her side, groaning in pain at the bright sparks that attacked her irises.

When he came closer, Crea backed away, as if being more than two feet close to him burned her skin. Venn felt a bitter taste clog the back of his throat. His fingers curled helplessly in front of him, reaching out toward Crea as she backed into a corner.

"Crea, I—"

"Just go away!" Crea snapped as her head spun. _No, no! Don't come near me, Venn. You don't know what I'll… I could do something horrible. I don't know me anymore._ "You think you can just come in here whenever you damn please?"

"What? I don't know what you're—"

"I know this is your wagon, but that doesn't mean I'm your property." Crea's eyes clouded with tears but she rubbed ferociously at them. She had to make Venn go away. _Now_. "It's pissing me off. Saying that we're getting married when we're not."

"Crea, what brought this up? Just… just talk to me, damnit!" Unable to take it, Venn reached out and gripped her arms. "Tell me what's wrong. Let me help you, Crea."

Last night flashed in front of her eyes. The old man reached out for her in Venn's face. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" she screeched and jerked herself back from his, kicking. "I'll rip out your heart if you touch me!"

"Now you're creeping me out, Crea. Tell me what the hell is wrong!" Venn gritted out, his fingers tightening over the fabric on his knees.

"You're the problem." _I'm the problem, I'm the problem. I'm so dirty, Venn. I'm so dirty._ "Don't ever touch me. I don't want you to ever touch me unless I say so. And I won't. I'm not marrying you, either."

"What brought this up? Crea, if it was something I said, I'm sure I can make it up." He smiled in a cocky way that would have Crea laughing any other time.

Any other time.

"I just think we should set up some ground limits," Crea snapped.

"Fine. You know what? Fine." Venn threw up his hands. "You're in a bad mood, I can see that. I'm just going to go hang with someone remotely nice today, alright? See ya in a bit, Crea." He yanked himself from the wagon and strode away, cursing.

"I'll never be alright," Crea whispered dejectedly as she fell to the floor and curled into a ball. "Never again." It felt like her cranium had been split into thousands of tiny pieces and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't make them fit again.

The old man had spoiled them and they were bloated now, unable to be placed back into their spots inside her head. The Crea she had been was fading, quickly, dissolving into dust and this new Crea that took over her skin was cold and hard and unwilling to take the chances that would end up killing her.

What little part of her that wasn't broken had been locked away during the night. It wouldn't come out of the darkness it had locked itself away in and Crea had no need for it now. Not when she wasn't willing to go soft again.

Oh, he would pay. Everyone that had hurt her would pay.

--&--

Nyx woke up with a small headache and a sore body. She rolled onto her side, trying to tug her blankets over head and block out the sun. Only… it got stuck. Groaning in frustration, Nyx wondered what on earth would keep it taunt.

She rolled over and…

Nik was sleeping peacefully at her side, a muscular arm thrown over her chest. The silver tattoo of the Phoenix—Nyx remembered vaguely he had gotten it on the day after the Phoenix's defeat after she had refused to get one—glowed in the streaming sunlight. His powerful leg was wrapped around her waist, loosening during the night so she could roll away.

Oh Goddess. It all came back to her, memory after memory washing over her. The sighs, the moans, the pleads, the pleasure, the completion. Every thing she had sworn would not happen had just happened… and she was the one who had started it. Nik had tried to pull away and she had thrown herself into his arms.

What had she done? What would she do? Would Nik accept it as a one time weakness? Of course not. He would expect something from it. Something her battered heart wasn't willing to give.

Her stomach did a dangerous flip-flop and she managed to disentangle herself from him without awakening Nik. A hand flew to her mouth as her stomach pivoted, threatening to toss up what remained in her abdomen.

She sat down against the side of the bed, struggling with her stomach. Oh, what had she been thinking?

_I wanted Nik_, Nyx told herself bitterly, _and it hadn't mattered how much of a risk I was taking as long as I had him_. It was true. All those years yearning for him, the first time she had remembered him after awakening from her rebirth. Every moment had been led up to this, to being curled under Nik again.

There had been no other man in her life and there never was going to be. Nyx had come to terms with that, but she had refused to let Nik into her life again, afraid of ripping apart her heart that was barely holding together as it was.

Now he was sleeping in her bed and _he_ was the one who had pulled away. She was the one that had taken the last step, the one that had given herself to him. Nik hadn't been at fault this time.

She was.

"I knew it." Nyx's body stiffened as Nik shifted and began in an almost annoyed voice, "I'd knew if I… you'd regret it. Damnit, I should've now. Goddess on high… I'm so freaking sorry, Nyx. Really, I didn't mean to take advantage of you. Honestly."

"It—it wasn't your fault, Nik," Nyx pointed out softly, biting on her lip and her pride. "You tried to stop. I made sure you couldn't. I just wanted to forget…"

Her body gave a shudder as she remembered Crea. Something had happened to her sister. She wasn't going to brush it off as a dream—perhaps her pride wasn't going to let her. Out there, somewhere, Crea was aching. Nyx's heart twisted in answer.

The only solace she had was knowing that Crea was strong. Somehow, someway, Crea would find a way to survive and heal.

But could the same be said about her sister?

Nik rolled over, folding his arms under his chin, and peered down at Nyx from the side of the bed. She had curled into the fetal position, her naked body hidden by her legs. "So, we're back to square one, eh?"

"We were never at square one, Nik. There is _no_ square one with us. I won't let there be." She stood and looked at him, eyes burning. "I'm sorry that I did this, that I led you on. It doesn't mean anything. It can't. You know why."

"Cut the bullshit," Nik snapped and anger flashed in his eyes before he banked it. "I'm so tired of this. Beating around the bush with you. I know who I am… and I know without you it doesn't mean shit. I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't. I won't."

Without warning he grabbed her arms and pulled her onto the bed. Nyx let him, her eyes neutral. Nothing bothered him more, she knew, than thinking she was unaffected. In all actuality, being this close to him had her heart thumping in her chest.

"Nyx… I wasn't kidding when I said I loved you last night," he pointed out and touched her face, kissing her cheeks, then eyelids, then brushing her mouth. "I don't say it unless I mean. I've only said it to you."

She turned her head and was unable to look at him. She had answered him in the heat of passion. But she couldn't now. Not now. She had fought too hard, worked too hard, to get where she was to open her heart again. She could not.

She would not.

With a small gasp of pain, she managed to pull herself away from him. Wrapping a blanket around her trembling body she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Things have changed, Nik. _I've_ changed."

"No, you haven't," he replied in a confident voice. "You'd like to think you've changed. But you haven't… I know. I know you, Nyx. I know you better than anyone else."

It burned her that it was true.

"It doesn't matter who I am or what I am. I'm not gong back to what we were. I _refuse_ to." Nyx pressed a hand to his chest and narrowed her eyes. She wanted out, out so bad. Out, out, out.

"Who said anything about what we were?" Nik demanded. "I wanted something different, Nyx. Very different."

She didn't stay to find out what he was talking about. With the blanket wrapped around her like a toga, she ran into her bathroom.

And locked the door.

--&--

Aithne held her breath, shuffled her feet, and waited patiently for her mother to step out of the Stadium. Keira was there almost every day now that her Racing Team was back on top under her careful guidance.

In her fingers she clutched a thin water paper. _Krimzon Guard Application Forms._ She was under twenty one and so she had to have her mother's permission. Aithne was nervous. Keira had a certain confusing hatred towards the Krimzon Guard. It was subtle, and barely noticeable, but it was there. A simple spark in the eyes or a bearing of the teeth. It was enough for a daughter to notice.

There was a deafening roar from within the Stadium and Aithne concluded that the crowd favourite team—Keira's _Storm Riders_—had won. Her fingers tightened over her paper as she drew in a tight breath.

_Okay, okay, Aithne. Calm down, you can do this. Deep, deep breath. Just tell Mom what you want._

She moved into the racer quarters, where the riders and their captains were allowed to rest in between the competition. At the Krimzon Guard standing there she flashed her _V.I.P._ pass. He nodded silently and shuffled to one side, awkward in his shiny red Krimzon Guard armor.

Her heart burst against her ribs thinking that soon she would be wearing the matching uniform.

Some of the racers on her mother's team offered her smiles of welcome but most were too busy being exhausted to notice the aquamarine-tipped blonde entering the office of their leader. Keira Hagai, in her prime, could have raced with the best of them and they respected that.

"Hi, Mom," Aithne said softly as Keira looked up at her over the statistics she was reading. "I heard outside. Congrats."

"Thank you, darling. You know, you can always join up next year. You'd be the top dog in no time, you know," Keira pointed out to her daughter and smiled.

Aithne resisted the urge to sigh. She liked racing, liked the feel of the sleek zoomer between her legs, but she didn't see herself doing it professionally. Maybe it was because Keira had pushed her to it. She was, after all, a teenager, and the one thing teenagers didn't like was being told what to do.

Or maybe it was in her blood. Aithne didn't like to think about that. She never thought her skill in racing came from Jak Mar—even though his name was still whispered in awe among the racers—she allotted her skills all to her mother. And she never, _ever_, thought about why she was so eager to join the Krimzon Guard, the very thing that Jak had set straight over a decade ago.

"Mom, you know I don't do competition well. I have another… er… occupation in mind," Aithne admitted and her fingers tightened over the application she had slipped behind her back.

For a moment, Keira held her breath. The little warning bells inside her head began to go off. Aithne was plotting something. "Alright, what is it?"

Silently, Aithne placed the paper on her desk and Keira picked it up with two fingers. Her face became hidden behind it and Aithne fingers clasped together in front of her chest like a prayer.

_Oh please, oh please, oh please…_

"Aithne…" Keira's eyes were narrowed and Aithne saw the anger hinting at their edges. "We've talked about this… I don't know how many times. No. There will be no Krimzon Guard, no Wastelanders, no anything that has to do with the army of this city."

Her fingers clenched together into fists as her own eyes narrowed in rage. "Why not?" she demanded. "I could do some good in the army. Ryu and Maelia have no intention of joining the army. Someone needs to!"

"Not you, Aithne. There are more than enough children who will join the Krimzon Guard. You won't." Keira had a calm tone with the tinge of finality that irritated Aithne more than anything else could.

"Why? Why can't you accept that I want to join the Krimzon Guard? I'm not like you, Mom! I need action, I need to fight. I want to be like Uncle Sig and Torn. A fighter! It's what I was born to do!" She slammed her fists down on Keira's desk but the woman didn't jump. "Why can't you understand?"

"Because nothing good comes from the Krimzon Guard!" Keira answered, her own voice raised in anger. She stood and glared at her daughter. "People die every day out there! The Metal Heads are no where near our city but children are sent home to their mothers in boxes every day!"

"So that's it?" Aithne demanded but she knew she was far from the truth. "You think that I wouldn't be able to handle myself out there?"

"No! Aithne, it's not about skills or power. You could be hurt! You could never walk again. You could be devoured by Metal Heads! You could die! You could leave… leave…" She choked on the words as they came up.

"Leave you, Mom?" Aithne supplied, her voice going deadly calm. In that moment, Aithne had never seemed more like death. "Isn't that it? You're afraid that I'll leave you like that bastard did?"

"Aithne, don't talk about your father like—"

"He's not my father, damnit! He's just the sperm donor! I don't have a father. You have a husband, but I don't have a father! I don't want a father. I've seen what they can do and I never want one!" Aithne swung around, almost screaming. "And I refuse to let that son of bitch's mistake shape my life like it has yours!"

"Aithne, you are not so old that I cannot spank you if need be!" Keira threatened and made a move to grab her daughter's arm before she could storm off.

"I'm not Jak Mar, Mom!" Aithne shouted and pulled at her hair. "Is that all you see when you look at me? The husband who abandoned you? I won't leave you like he did, but I won't be cast in his shadow. I'm not stupid. I won't die. I'll never leave you."

"Aithne…" But her daughter had already jerked her arm free and was pushing herself free. "Wait." She stormed through the door and Keira did not have the strength to go after her.

She dropped to her knees and lowered her head.

_Jak, what have I done to our girl?_

--&--

Aithne ran as fast her legs would carry her. The hot summer sun burned her bare shoulders but she didn't stop to rub the ache in her skin.

The Naughty Ottsel whizzed by the corner of her eye and she kept on going. She kept on going until she found herself crashing into a body. She screamed and fought, kicking and scratching, rage and sadness and grief making her wild and lashing.

"Hey! Hey! Aithne!" A familiar voice penetrated her anger foggy brain and she managed to slow her beating arm.

"Oh… Cyren… _shit_… I'm sorry," she managed before she fell to the floor in an exhausted heap. "I was just so angry. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry. Are you alright?" She sent him a worried look.

Her small fists had bounced off him like rubber. Cyren would have to thank his father for it later. "I'm fine. Didn't hurt." He knelt down and took her wrists in his hands, looking at the clenched fists. "What happened?"

"Mom," she admitted before tears streamed down her face. "It's Mom. She won't let me join the Krimzon Guard because she thinks I'll leave her like Jak Mar did." Aithne gritted her teeth.

"Damn… I'm sorry." But Cyren wasn't sure what else to say. He and Aithne had been hanging out for a good two years now. They weren't as close as Maelia and Aithne were, but he liked to think they were good, good, _good_ friends.

"How is it your fault?" Aithne questioned and they both got to their feet. She wiped at her tears. "It's all her fault. And his… Jak Mar. He's ruined everything. He's shaped my life because he left Mom broken… I can't forgive him… _ever_."

"Aithne!" It was Maelia and Ryu, rushing toward her. Maelia yanked Cyren from Aithne's arm and demanded, "What happened? We were coming to see you when you rushed by. Why are you crying?"

Ryu, in the meantime, had shifted into 'big brother mode' and rounded on Cyren. "What the hell did you do to her? If you did something, you little prick, I'm going to cut you a new hole."

"Shut the hell up, Ryu!" Maelia chided and looked ready to hit him. "Stop being stupid. Cyren wouldn't do that. He's charming, aren't you, Cyren?"

At her words, Ryu flushed red.

"Mom… Mom… won't let me join the Krimzon Guard," Aithne managed to explain and pressed her face against Maelia's neck. "She thinks I'm just like Jak Mar!"

Maelia's eyebrows went up, way up, and she and Ryu shared a look that Aithne missed and Cyren didn't.

"…Ah, Aithne. Maybe…" Maelia bit her lip and pulled her friend from her neck and looked into those dark blue eyes. "Maybe you're overreacting? I mean, Aithne, it's just the Krimzon Guard. And it _is_ dangerous."

"I—I can't believe you're taking _her_ side, Mae!" Aithne looked at her friend with betrayed eyes. The dark blue became an almost black as her fingers clenched into fists. "You _know_ how important the Krimzon Guard is to me!"

"Look, Aithne," Ryu muttered and, for the first time, placed a supportive arm around Maelia's trembling shoulders. "It's just Krimzon Guard. And it is dangerous work…" He shrugged.

Angry tears prickled Aithne's eyes. "I cannot believe you don't understand! You, of all people! How would you feel if your father made you join the Krimzon Guard? Even when you don't want to? Huh? That's what it's like."

"It's different," Maelia protested, biting her lips as the first big, pearl-sized tear drop fell across her cheeks. "You know it is."

"No, it's not different!" Aithne looked ready to spit nails and she looked ready to take it out on Maelia. "It's no different. I _need_ to join the Krimzon Guard, I need to show Mom and everyone else that I… that I…"

"That you're not Jak Mar, Aithne?" Ryu supplied, his eyes softening in understand. How many times had he tried to prove he wasn't Torn? "Isn't that it? You've gotta prove to everyone that you aren't you're father's daughter?"

"Fuck you, Ryu," Aithne hissed and turned on her heel and found herself running again.

"Cut her some slack, guys," Cyren mumbled as he watched Aithne scamper off. There was barely controlled rage in his ebony eyes and he turned that liquid fire onto them. "You don't know what it's like, being told what you can and cannot do. What it's like to have your path set for you."

He knew what it was like. Zen-Fai had told him he would fight with him, work with him, participate in the tournaments, and, at all times, obey his elders' wishes. And Cyren's bred-in-the-bone manners hadn't allowed him to say no. He had bowed his head like a meek little lamb being led out to the slaughterhouse.

There were times where he wished he could retaliate. When he could take all those guns and machines and weapons Zen-Fai said he _had_ to use and dump them on the floor and say 'no, I don't want to'. He wanted to storm off, throw things, have a teenage angst-fest. All those things he couldn't do, because when he looked into Zen-Fai's cold and collected eyes he wanted desperately to please him.

Zen-Fai was so brave and strict and powerful and Cyren was… not.

But if there was one thing he could do, he wanted to do, for himself it was soothe Aithne. So he didn't argue when he legs turned his body and rushed off after the girl. He wasn't told to do it, he didn't have to do, but he wanted to. Aithne was his friend. When he had been nine and shy and homesick she had taken his hand and smiled.

He owed her, if nothing else. But friendship was always more than that.

Maelia dropped to her knees when they were both gone. "She's right. My father and mother don't tell me how to live my life. They don't care."

"God…" Ryu managed as he rubbed her shoulders. "Stop being a baby. Of course, they love you!"

Her heart jolted painfully in her chest at his words but she managed to grin brightly, that fake smile that had frightened her mother, and said, "Duh! You're right. I was just angsting. What's your problem, Ryu?"

"Nothing…" he mumbled and his eyes clearly stated that he didn't buy her excuse.

"Aithne will come around, you'll see," Maelia said and her voice was strained, as if she _had_ to believe it. "She'll love me again. Everyone will _love_ me."

Ryu wanted to touch her shoulders and offer his to cry on. But he held back. He was afraid. After all the shit he said, all the things he did, did he have the right to soothe? He was a jerk to her and he had offered no sympathy when it was obvious that was the one thing she needed.

So he just watched her die inside.

--&--

Aithne ran and ran and ran. She ran until her legs gave out beneath her and she collapsed into exhausted. It was the slanted ramp to the Haven Forest she fell onto, the metal cool beneath her sweating body.

Gasping, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the clouds as they passed overhead. She took a long drag of air and allowed her bones to melt.

Instead of crying, which was what she thought she'd do as soon as she stopped running, rage boiled in her veins. What right did they have, comparing her to Jak Mar? She wasn't that man, the one who left a city in turmoil. She was Aithne Hagai, next Krimzon Guard General. She was not some blonde rebel hero.

But everyone thought she was, Aithne knew it. Whenever they were sure she wasn't looking, she felt them comparing her to Jak. Picking her apart and putting the pieces up against the hero of Haven. They were waiting for her to do great things, be like Jak Mar. She wanted to prove them wrong, want to wipe the grins off their faces and laugh at them instead.

No, no. She was _not_ Jak Mar. She was not his daughter.

Cyren reached her without a word, without panting. He had been training with Zen-Fai since he could remember. Taunt muscles were hidden under his loose shirt. They were small, but with his wiry frame his body couldn't tolerate heavy muscles.

"Hey." He patted her hair as he took a seat besides her, his dark eyes considering and understanding.

Aithne glanced up at him and her heart constricted tightly in her chest. Throughout the years, Cyren was the only one who understood her. _Cyren_. Not her mother, not Maelia, not Ryu. Just Cyren. "Thanks. You—you're the only one who's… who's on my side."

"I think everyone should have the right to choose their own paths. I don't think it should be chosen for them… though, I am kinda glad that… well, you can't join the Krimzon Guard." When her eyes narrowed and again and went dark, he quickly added, "I mean, because then I would feel bad about not being allowed to…"

"What?" Aithne repeated because she didn't get it.

"Well… you see, I got the application to join the Krimzon Guard, too," Cyren admitted and frowned when he remembered _that_ argument he had with Zen-Fai. If one could call it an argument, that was, since Zen-Fai hadn't yelled much and Cyren hadn't done much talking. "But Father said my duty was to the gun course and completing my training with him. And he said that since I wasn't a natural born citizen of Haven it wasn't my right to join…"

"You? You want to join the Krimzon Guard?" Even as she said it, it seemed impossible to Aithne for gentle-eyed Cyren to fight in the army. "Why…?"

"Well… ah… I just thought, it'd be good for me. See the world, toughen up a bit, earn some respect." A flush rose to his cheeks from his neck as Cyren moved a shoulder and glanced away. At least it was halfway true. A part of him wanted all that. But, of course, his decision had been heavily weighed by the fact he thought Aithne would be joining.

"Zen-Fai said no?"

"Yeah…"

"It's not fair!" Aithne exploded, angrily. She swung around and looked Cyren dead in the eye. "What right do they have to tell us what we can and cannot do with our lives?" she demanded and the blonde boy almost jumped.

She was so passionate, fire burning in her eyes. Cyren was caught up in the heat of it as he nodded enthusiastically.

But Aithne wasn't really paying attention to the boy as she stood. She felt his agreement, yes, and it supported her rant, but it was about what she was feeling in her heart. What burned inside her. The anger, the rage, the grief.

"When I'm through they'll never go 'there goes Aithne Hagai, the poor abandoned daughter of Jak Mar. Doesn't she look just like him? I wonder if she's a hero, too?' They'll never say that. They'll say 'there's Aithne Hagai, she's her own woman and you'd better stay out of her way'." She looked down at the boy and dragged him up. "Don't worry about it, though. You'll always be my friend. Number one, Cyren."

"Number one," he agreed and smiled even as rage continued to burn in her eyes.

--&--

"Drop and give me a hundred, soldier!"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" The soldier threw his arms out as he fell onto the floor. The sun baked the training grounds of the Holy City as the mail-covered foot soldier hit the floor and began to give his commander the pushups she requested.

Nyx planted her hands on her hips and some of the young, less experienced soldiers, found it hard not to drool. Yes, Nyx was strict and hard and made them give her a hundred and ten percent, but there was no denying her attractiveness. Long blonde hair that flowed to her waist and a uniform that shaped her breasts and hips.

Which was why the youngster was doing the pushups. He had the cockiness and the gull to reach out and feel the ass that had been framed by tight mail. He was a ladies' man by reputation and hadn't thought the hot commander would deny him.

But the said commander had turned, glared so hard his blood went ice-cold, and calmly said that should he not remove his hand from her arse he would find himself _without_ one. With a flush he had done as ordered and then gave her the demanded hundred pushups.

Not far away, Nik was fuming. He was seconds away from rushing forward, grabbing the punk by the collar, and introducing him to his fist. No one—_no one_—touched Nyx unless it was Nik. Whether she liked it or not, Nyx was already known as Nik's 'warrior woman' and most people didn't mess with her. Nik was respected among the ranks and no one wanted a pissed-off Nik training them.

And Nyx knew he was there. Oh, she knew. She could feel his gaze boring into her back, as if she had a little target dart on her spine. It made a shiver run up her back, knowing he was watching. Her bones felt slow and her movements sluggish. Unwittingly, it gave her soldiers a good look at the curves she didn't realize she was showing off.

The sun burned her head and she raised a hand against her heated hair. Boy, why had the heat never bothered her so much before? Without thinking, she began to lower her head to her abdomen, momentarily unaware of the eyes on her.

Then she remembered and glanced over her shoulders before placing the hand carefully to her side. Nyx bit her lip and resisted the urge to look over Nik, no matter how much she wanted to. _No, no. Don't look, don't look._

But she felt sick, sick to her poor, bloated stomach. Thinking of it now Nyx felt a little trickle of panic rise up to her throat. Oh no, it couldn't be… could it? She had never thought about it before. She had assumed it be too early for her body to rebel. By the time it started she planned to be on vacation.

Without warning her stomach hit her feet and she knew any minute, any minute now, she'd be a goner. She could feel the faint make its slow and agonizing way up to her head, drowning her limbs with cold.

"Ma'am?" It was the soldier. Mr. Touchy-Feely. He had done his pushups and now his face was not cast in lust or humiliation, but concern. He started to reach out for her arm, but stopped. "Are you alright?"

No, she was not alright. _Oh Goddess, oh Goddess. What am I going to do? I have to… I have to stay awake. Just for another hour or so. Oh please, oh please. Not with Nik watching. Just stay awake. You can do this._

Her stomach took one long pivot and she bit back a groan. The world did one long twirl, like a prima ballerina, and she found herself almost moving with it. The sun was suddenly too hot, too bright. She wondered, almost giddily, if her hair was on fire. It mustn't be because no one was panicking. Or maybe they just didn't care.

_Can't do it anymore… please, let nothing bad have happened because I was so stubborn…_

She turned her head and glanced over at Nik. He had unfolded his arms and was making his way over to her, a look of concern on his face as he moved.

That was the last image she saw as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and dropped into darkness.

_I'm sorry if I hurt you…_

Nik caught her before she hit the ground, using speed that had the rest of the soldiers gasping. He cradled Nyx in the crock of his arms and was relieved when she mumbled and buried herself against his chest. "Goddess, Nyx," he muttered.

Her cheeks was covered in sweat and her face was clenched in pain. Nyx needed a doctor, Nik knew that without looking. Her body was too thin, and she was trembling as if cold though it was a good ninety degrees out.

"Nyx, Nyx, Nyx…" he whispered, pressing a kiss along her hair line. "What's wrong with you? Tell me how to make it better."

All she did was moan.

--&--

Nyx awoke in darkness. For a blind, panicky second she didn't know what was going on. The room smelt unfamiliar and the bed was too hard and the air was too filled with silence. Her breath came up in a shallow gasp of fear.

Then she remembered. The pain in her stomach, the heat of the afternoon, the wild fear, then the passing out. She remembered it all and it rushed over her skin and made her tremble. She bit her lip in worry.

Her fingers slid down the papery hospital gown the nurses must have put her in when whoever had carried her had managed to get her to the medical ward of the Holy City palace. She never liked this place. For a soldier, it was an all too real reminder of what waited down the road for some, for some she might know and love.

Down her fingers went, down as she fought tears. _Please Goddess no… anything but…_

"The baby's fine," a tired, hoarse voice said as Nyx's fingers touched her lower belly. "Just over extorted yourself and it retaliated with a few energy drains."

She knew that voice. Nyx turned her head to the side, her pony-tailed hair swung against her cheeks. In the dim lights pouring in from the outside corridors, Nyx could make out a silhouette body contorted in an uncomfortable chair besides her bed. She hadn't realized until her brain cleared of fog that the sitter had also been holding her hand until she had awakened.

"Nik?" Her voice was choked and scratchy and screamed for water. "What are you doing here…?"

He pressed the glass of water into her fingers, the coolness of it almost frightening her. But the feel of his hot fingers against her cold wrist was more of a start. "Drink this," was all he said. "Only baby sips though."

_Baby._ "I thought… I'd thought you'd be gone when you found out about…"

"_My baby_?" Nik demanded and he sounded bitter and angry and she flinched. "Like hell, Nyx. I thought you _knew_ me. The doctors pretty much figured it was mine and browbeat me for letting you take so many risks. I didn't have the heart to tell them I wasn't even aware you were pregnant."

"Whose says it's yours?" Nyx said softly even as her heart twisted in guilt.

"Don't fuck around with this, Nyx," he snapped and gripped her wrists. "Don't you dare. I won't hit you, but I'm pissed off right now and I could send you back into another fainting fit if I started yelling."

"I did not faint," she gritted out.

"Liar." He switched on the lamp beside her bed and she saw the tired bags under his eyes and the sag of his cheeks from a lack of sleep. "Goddess, do you know what it was like? To watch them stick needles in your arms and then have them tell me that you were pregnant so I should have known better than to let you go out and train?"

"No." She bit her lip and felt a wave of emotion overwhelm her. "And I'm sorry about that. Nik…"

"Don't be sorry, damnit. Tell me why. Why couldn't you admit that I had put something inside you that you can't ignore?"

"The baby wasn't the first thing you put inside of me I couldn't ignore," she muttered and tried to pull her wrist free. Nik wouldn't budge. "I was afraid. Afraid that you'd be guilty, take responsibility because you _had_ to. That this baby would be one more duty for you to carry. It's my fault, what happened. I threw myself _at_ you. Whatever happened, I swore I would handle it on my own."

"You thought… _damnit_," Nik cursed viciously, but his grip on Nyx's wrist softened. This lady, he decided, needed to softened. "Did you ever think, for one moment, that I would ecstatic about the baby?" He remembered looking down at Nyx as she slept and imaged her cradling a baby in the same bed, the tiny head suckling on her breast. His heart had done an odd little flip flop in his chest.

"I knew you weren't looking to settle down with a family yet." She had heard talk about Nik, from Nik. She knew what the man wanted, or didn't want. At least, she thought she did. "And what was this baby but the ultimate settling down?"

"I'll admit, I hadn't planned on moving this fast in our relationship." Nik gave her a genuine smile as he began to draw lazy designs on her fingers that had her moaning softly. "But I want a family, a settling down, with you, Nyx. So we moved a little faster than planned. I'm okay with that."

"But—"

"I love you, Nyx. A baby isn't going to break that. It's going to strengthen it. Give me one more thing to love about you. My baby. Inside you. That's freaking awesome." His hand settled down hers on her stomach. "I love you so much, Nyx."

"Think about it, Nik. We're… we're soldiers. Can we afford a family?" She was desperate for a way out. A way to escape the trap he was wrapping around her. "I'm not giving up this baby, Nik. But you don't have to…"

"Tell me you don't love me."

"I don't—" she began.

Nik reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. "No, damnit. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me. In the eyes."

"What does it matter?" she demanded when she couldn't and the tears started to fall. "I won't go back into that hole again. Pretending that there wasn't a gap in what we had. That I didn't feel like I didn't know you. That I didn't know you were keeping a secret from me. I'm not going back there!"

"I don't want you to!" Nik retorted. "Stop living in the past, Nyx. I'm not that man anymore. I could be in Sage-Harmona, I could be ruling it now. But I'm not. Because I want you. Everything else doesn't matter."

She started to sob. It was like someone had turned on the faucet and now she couldn't stop balling. She was Nyx Urban, the tough, no nonsense commander of the Holy City forces, and she couldn't stop crying. "Nik… Nik…!"

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and then settled on her mouth. A long, gentle kiss that drew her breath from her lips as Nik slid into the bed next to her, arms pinning her to white sheet. "Don't ask me to leave, Nyx. I don't think I can handle it. I'll break if you ask me to leave."

But he would if she asked. They both knew. It would kill them both from the inside, like a parasite, but they both knew if Nyx told Nik to go he would. And then he wouldn't come back.

"No, don't go. Please, Nik. I need you. I've never needed anything more." With a wild cry she drew him down beside her and kissed him long and hard on the mouth, sobbing the whole while. All the tears she had kept bottled up poured down her face as she tangled her hands in his hair. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I'm so sorry I've been hurting you for so long. Too long."

It was said and Nik gave a shudder. It was like something had been realized in them both with Nyx's cry. She had held off for so long, clinging to her fear, but when it was gone it was as if they were both free and flying. And they flew right into each other, reckless abandon, wild and pleasurable.

"Nyx, Nyx," he was saying against her both, settling on top of her, not putting to much pressure. "Goddess, thank you. I've been waiting forever. Marry me, Nyx. I want you… and the baby. Marry me."

"Oh, yes. Yes. _Yes_."

Nyx knew there was no need to say it, but she did anyway as she drowned in Nik.

--&--

Aithne Hagai stepped out of her house and sent a scowl at it over her shoulder. The scowl had become a part of her face, an almost permanent part of her face and most people had gotten used to it.

She considered that a victory on her part. She had tailored herself so no one would ever assume she was the jilted offspring of Jak Mar.

That was why she had gone—as Maelia called it—_punk_. She wore an off-white legless, armless gymnast jumpsuit that was tight over her curves and breasts—or lack of—and cut high on her thighs. She had coupled that with lowride, skintight black jean that had an almost spandex look to it and showed off her tanned hips. One wrist-length black fingerless glove covered her left hand and its counter part was elbow-length. The final piece she had put on herself was a red sash that tied around her upper arm and managed to touch her waist in sheer waves.

On the back of her jeans was a silver insignia. The many twists and turns of it, all coming together to form a symbol in a circular patter, was familiar to many. It reminded them of happier times, before the Metal Head, before Praxis, before the Wars, before the world started to reshape.

The symbol of the House of Mar.

Aithne knew what it was, she couldn't go to school or walk around Haven City and _not_ know what it was. When she saw it there she had almost burned the jeans, but, being of a practical mind sometimes, she decided that since it had taken her over a year's worth of allowance to afford her outfit she'd deal with it. And, even if she felt nothing but utter detest for one Jak Mar, the symbol was cool.

So she kept it there as a silent act of independence and as a way to remind her mother who had abandoned who. There was no doubt in Aithne's mind that every time Keira saw the silver symbol stark on her daughter's back pocket she was hit with the memory of the day Jak had gone MIA.

Cruel as it was, Aithne was pleased.

She figured this way no one would ever mistake her for the unfortunate daughter of Jak Mar. All they would see was Aithne Hagai, daughter of the owner of the _Storm Riders_, niece to the former leader of the Wastelanders, and granddaughter to the master of life-eco. Never would she be compared to Jak Mar. She acted like no hero, she had purposely become the opposite of hero-like. She figured she was the polar opposite of Jak Mar, moody, harsh, and mean.

Only, she figured wrong. Aithne never would have suspected it but everywhere she went, whoever looked at her, they saw Jak. She was Jak. Her hair—limp gold with blue tips—singed of Jak and her eyes and her mouth and skin. Every part of her was Jak and the sudden down thrust in her mood only made the comparison more accurate.

But Aithne had never known of Jak's dark past, of the experiments performed on him, his hell-bent rage. All she knew was the hero, the man who saved Haven City and had a hand in saving the world. That was all she knew.

Shaking her head, Aithne went to the port. She and Maelia had made up after their spat when the strawberry-blonde girl had come to her house later in the evening and begged for forgiveness. Aithne had been planning to go over to the Naughty Ottsel to do the same thing, but decided Maelia didn't need to know that.

They had made up and were back on best-friend standards, though Maelia felt as if her importance to Aithne had been lowered.

But when she got to the port Aithne did not go Naughty Ottsel. Instead she kept on walking past it, towards the former gun course now known as _Guns and Fighting_ or _That Crazy Old Guy's Beat 'Em Up Courses_, as Maelia called it.

"Hey, hey! Aithne!"

Already recognizing the voice, Aithne smirked. Cyren was, as she had said a year earlier, her number one. Her best buddy in the whole wide world. Ryu still often went into 'big brother' mood when around the blonde-haired boy but the redhead was beginning to make a shaky friendship with Cyren. Much to the delight of Aithne herself.

"Cyren, how are…" she trailed off as she glanced up, her eyes widening and the smirk dropping from her face. "The hell…?" she demanded but didn't seem too insulted. Just shocked.

The platinum blonde was wearing anything but his normal loose fitting white slacks. He was wearing, in fact, what could be considered the male version of Aithne's outfit.

His jeans were black and leather, though not nearly as tight as Aithne's was, and two small silver belts had been strapped around his upper thigh to make an X look. He wore a green shirt with muscle-sleeves and a semi-high collar with gold buttons on one side of the collar. The style was called 'Chinese' and had flourish during Sage-Harmona's prime. His gloves were black but thick, meant for tinkering with stubborn machines rather than for show.

A black armband hung tight around his upper arm and a green headband had been tied around his forehead, the extra cloth trailing down his head to his shoulder blades. Big boots perfect for weathering storms and trudging through unfavorable positions traveled up his legs until they reached about mid-calf.

"Well," Cyren admitted with an earnest smile that didn't match his punk-ish attire. "I couldn't help but wonder how it felt like to wear the things you did. Of course, there was no way I could fit into _those_ pants of yours, but I'd say I pull off the outfit well, right?"

"Okay, I guess," Aithne answered and allowed a smug smile to cross her lips. All the girls would be swooning since that shirt of his gave everyone a nice view of the wiry muscles he had and now that Cyren passed six feet he finally looked big enough for his body, tall and built. His almost white hair fell across his dark eyes in his trademark loose spikes made him the hottie of the year—and the year before that, and the year before that, if Maelia's words were correct.

And Maelia probably knew, too. She had elected hottest girl for the past four years. With her pixie good looks and body to die for, she had every boy dogging her steps.

Aithne hadn't even been a contender. And she was well aware of it in a semi-jealous way. She had enough curves to please her most of time but they seemed out of place on her tall body—though she in no way measured up to neither Cyren nor Ryu—and her body, no matter what she did, seemed too thin for the curves she _did_ have. When she had been young and first growing it only enraged her, but now she was finally getting used to the fact that she was all legs and small curves.

"Say," Aithne said as she took Cyren's arm and they made their way to the Naughty Ottsel. Maelia was working there and it never ceased to amuse Aithne to tease her. "You heard about the party Mae-Mae's having?"

"Who hasn't? Everyone's talking about." Maelia's parties were known to be the best in the city and, since it was rumored her parents would be in the Bazaar during that party, this one was on everyone's lips.

"You going?"

"Well," Cyren replied sheepishly. "Maelia _did_ invite me." More like, Maelia had stomped over to Cyren's home yesterday and told him that she was having a party and he _had_ to come so all the girls would too busy drooling over him to notice her spiriting away their boyfriends.

Cyren had blushed, as was his custom, and accepted because it would have been rude to say no.

"Good. You're the only guy I trust not to put your hands all over my ass." Not that she _had_ much of an ass, Aithne thought bitterly.

"Ah… yeah… well…" Cyren felt a little guilty at the fact that, while he hadn't actually done it, he had thought about what Aithne's curves would feel like under his hands. He never told Aithne, of course.

And whenever some guy had the gull to try to get into the daughter of Jak Mar's pants Cyren was tempted to try some new bushido moves on the sucker. He didn't, though, since Zen-Fai would browbeat him until Cyren felt less than human and Aithne never let them get anymore than an attempted kiss in.

Just as the two friends reached the Naughty Ottsel Ryutaro rushed out, ignoring them in his attempt to flee. "Run!" he cried to Aithne and Cyren as the boy sent Ryu a bewildered look. "She's PMSing!"

"Ryutaro Praxis!" Maelia screeched, coming out of the Naughty Ottsel waving a silver tray. "Get back here so I can beat your ass properly! No one, I mean, no one insults my boyfriend!"

Cyren and Aithne shared a look. Maelia had too many boyfriends to count, which meant that if Ryu opened his mouth he had a seventy-five percent chance of insulting one of Maelia's boyfriends.

"I'm thinking," Cyren suggested as Maelia's eyes darkened in rage. "We hang out at my place until the storm blows over?"

"I concur," Aithne muttered and—before Maelia could turn her anger onto the nearest person—made a run for it.

--&--

Toward the end of the day, after Cyren and Aithne had done some serious climbing in Haven Forest, they had come back to Cyren's home. The girl had fallen asleep, passing out gratefully on the blue matted floor. Cyren, not nearly as tired but not faring much better, had joined her.

Now he was trying not to blush as Aithne cuddled against him, one of her arms wrapping around his waist. After all, Aithne had said she trusted him to be the one to respect her and _not_ try to get into her pants. Cyren wanted Aithne to think that way about him, didn't he?

"Cyren," said a soft voice and the blonde-haired boy looked up as Zen-Fai entered, glancing at Aithne without a judging eye. He just seemed amused by the whole thing. "Can you get up?"

"Yes, Father," Cyren answered, just as quietly, and raised himself, using his training to move subtly from Aithne. The girl curled and mumbled in protest, missing the warmth. Cyren looked at her and really wished he could join her again.

"May I assume that she is the reason for your sudden…" Zen-Fai apparently didn't have the world for Cyren's clothes so he let his eyes simply roam the boy until he got it.

"Well… at first maybe," Cyren admitted with a small flush. His pale competition, much to his annoyance, always gave his embarrassment away. "But than I found that I… really liked it."

He and Zen-Fai had had a fight about it yesterday. Well, Zen-Fai had chastised while Cyren had waited until he was done to argue his position. Then Zen-Fai had sighed and said Cyren was old enough to make decisions in way of his attire. But the disapproval in the old man's eyes still stung Cyren.

"You are going to the young Ottsel girl's party tomorrow, yes?" It was a statement, not a question,

Cyren bowed his head in respect. "I would like to, Father."

"I would send you either way," Zen-Fai admitted. "I have spoken to Daxter and his wife. They will not be there during the party and though Tess seems to believe her daughter is responsible, I have my doubts." His eyes fell on Aithne. "There will be no doubt alcohol—despite the rules—and liquor can make even the most respectable man do improper things."

"Father?"

"Can I expect you to keep an eye on the young girls and stay out of the alcohol? Boys and liquor could end badly for the young girls. I need you to be the mature one, Cyren." Zen-Fai did not take his eyes off Aithne as he spoke. "I would hate for something to happen to Aithne. She is a good lass, even if a bit confused."

"Sir. I wouldn't let anyone hurt another person," Cyren pointed out. "I will do as you say, though Ryutaro Praxis will be there and he'll no doubt keep the party under control."

"That boy has his own problems," Zen-Fai muttered and patted Cyren's arm. "You do what you feel is right, Cyren. That is all I ask."

"I understand… Father…"

"Yes. Now, wake up the young Hagai and take her home. It's improper for her to be here after nights fall," Zen-Fai ordered gently as Aithne gave a small moan and turned over, struggling to remain asleep.

"Yes, Father."

**(TBC...)**

* * *

**AN:** Part Two, almost finished! Just about two acts left to go! Then Jak returns to the scene. Aren't ya'all happy? I know, I am. Things get a _lot_ more interesting (and gory) as Part Three rolls around. And I'll let you know now… Part Two goes out… with a bang.

**Act X:** The birth of a child, Maelia's party, some very borderline PG-13 action, Krimzon Guard joining, betrayal, training, and a new… strange character is introduced.

**!SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!**

If anyone is interested in doing some **fanart** for Jak IV: Penalties of War, I would greatly appreciate it. As I have no drawing skills, I am forced to rely on the generosity of others! If anyone is kind enough as to be willing to do some fanart for this story, let me know via e-mail or put your e-mail in a review and I'll contact you! Thanks in advance!

**Reviews:**

**Hellmouth2:** yeah. Not a pleasant, mind-rape is. Unfortunately, it's necessary for the advancement of Crea's character. Beside, couldn't have a happy-crazy person running around in a story of angst-supreme, could I?

**Red Mage 04:** bet I made you worry a whole lot this time, huh? Here's one thing to keep in mind. If the story remains posted, it _will_ get updated.

**Specter Von Baren:** never! In fact, the only reason why this act was posted as early as it was is because you e-mailed me! Interfering can be good!

**Amity-Star:** I agree with you. Jak is about as heterosexual as they get. Beside, usually in games if a person is gay you _know_ they're gay (i.e., that guy from _Dynasty Warriors_). If Jak was gay, would he be trying to get into Keira's—or even Ashlin's pants?

**kouga-luv:** mad love, g, mad love ;)

**ChatterBox101:** yes, feel bad for _everyone_! Their life sucks something awful. I'm an awful person. I feel so guilty. And on the subject of Ryu… let me explain. Being the son of Torn, Ryu does like basic bootcamps. But think of Krimzon Guard bootcamps as… Boy Scouts, but taken _to da max_! With guns and what not. Usually, those kind of bootcamps are targeted younger children for basic survival training. Ryu is not trying to be Krimzon Guard, he was just forced into one of their programs when he was younger. Clear things up?

**GundamWingFanatic90:** you mean Part 3? Well, we've got about two chapters life of Part II so let's keep our fingers crossed for some time in January. And yeah, poor Crea isn't going to be that loveable, crazy kid from Jak III!

**Teh Kitsune:** awww, no worries! I don't mind you being a fangirl. And you up you liked this conclusion of the Nik/Nyx relationship! Not that there won't be more hardships for them, but you know… and I've _played_ Jak X. It's not so bad (Keira and Jak hold hands :faints:) but it is hard to get the hang off… I need more practice ;;

**Maieve Avi:** yeah I know, Part II is not very detailed action-wise. Well, not until the end… why…? I'm not telling you why!

**JackThePhoenix:** oh-ho. _Is_ Jak in Sage-Harmona? I'm not telling! You'll just have to wait and find out… and keep on guessing.

**Half Demon Mazaku:** XD, maybe you do. Aithne and Jak's relationship is royal screw up, innit? And she doesn't even _know_ him!

**MewmiC:** thank you, darling! I love to be complimented! And soon, soon, Aithne _will_ meet Jak and we shall see their reaction. Until then…

**Jack of Blades:** sorry to keep you waiting! Hope you liked it!

**-Also, if none of you have done so already please, please, please donate to the Hurricane relief funds. You really have no idea how hard it is down there unless you've been and I can tell you, we need all the relief we can get! Thanks you-**


	10. The Children Will Grow Up

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own the Jak series

**AN:** well, at least I'm trying. It's not the longest wait for an update, is it? Anyway, I had fun with this chapter. I _do_ do teenage angst so well! Is that weird? It's weird, isn't? Ah… er… I can promise things will get light any time in the future… but well… there _might_ be some lightness… that's something to hope for, right? Just don't get those hopes up. This is _me_ we're talking about.

**WARNING:** this chapter has sex in it! That's right, children. _S-E-X!_ But nothing descriptive… and nothing that gets too far. But this is very lime! You have been warned. Oh, and lost of cursing. Get used to it.

-

** Act X: The Children Will Grow Up **

Yet again, Nyx found herself waking up from a dead faint. She moaned softly and rubbed her eyes, careful of the tubes sticking in her hands. _Not here again_, she thought.

The hospital. She was in the hospital again.

It all came rushing back to her, like a floodgate had been opened and she was being washed away in the memories. The contractions, the burst of her water, the doctors, the panicking voices. Something about too much blood.

"Scared the shit out o' me, darling." She turned her head and saw Nik sitting in the uncomfortable hospital chair again. The sun was just rising over the horizon and his bright red hair reflected the orange tint. "Do you have to make a habit out of that?"

"Baby…" she rasped, shaking her head when he pushed the glass of water into her hands. "What happened?"

"You know, you went into labor, but something went wrong." Nik's face darkened when he remembered it. The pallor of Nyx's features and the nearly panicked looks of the doctors' faces. He had reverted to threatening the doctors with physical harm. "The baby got twisted around and was coming out feet first. Your umbilical cord got wrapped around her throat."

"Her…" Nyx sighed and let Nik continue.

"You passed out from the loss of blood and the doctor had to do an immediate secession. As it was, the baby barely survived and you had to be pumped with blood." Slowly he lifted his shirt and showed her the patch one his arm. "Lucky we have the same blood type."

"Nik…" He kissed her to silence her protested, cupping her cheek lovingly.

"The baby's fine," Nik answered. "Nice and healthy now that we got her out of the blue. She's a little on the tiny side and a bit underweight, but she's perfect and beautiful, Nyx. She'll look just like you…"

"I want to see her," Nyx said softly, her breasts swollen and throbbing. Her daughter would feed there, connecting them in a way only mother and child could be connected. "I want to hold her."

"And here she is now," Sala said proudly, striding through the door with a yellow bundle in her arms. A sleepy Gareth strode in beside her, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Sedet, his tiny, dark-haired son, was asleep on his back, cheek pressed against his shoulder, drool working its way from the boy's mouth and onto his father's shirt.

"My baby," Nyx said as Nik took her from Sala's arms and placed her into Nyx's. "Merasaki… our Merasaki."

"A good, strong name. Scared us like crazy, Nyx. Don't do it again," Gareth muttered and hunched his shoulders, accidentally bumping his shoulder blade against his son's chin. Sedet awakened with a groan.

"Is Nyx okay now?" the three-year-old asked as he slithered down his father's back to walk over to Nyx's bed.

"I'm fine, little prince," Nyx answered with a small smile.

"I can see her?" Sedet asked innocently. Nyx nodded and let the tiny boy peer at small girl. He frowned. "She wrinkly and tiny."

"Yes. She's wonderful." She looked up at Nik and smiled broadly. "She's perfect. She's everything that I've ever wanted." Merasaki was the vision, the symbol, of all Nyx's hopes and dreams.

"Everything _we've_ ever wanted," Nik added and stroked the gold band on her finger. They had been married for three months.

"Yes. We've ever wanted." Nyx did one long sweep of the room. Sala and Gareth and Sedet. Nik and Merasaki. The only thing missing was…

_Crea._ A bitter taste welled up in her throat. The feeling that something terrible had happened to her younger sister was still deep inside her. But Crea couldn't be found. Wherever she was, she kept moving. And Crea hadn't made an attempt to come home. There was nothing Nyx could do.

So she settled for almost perfect.

--&--

Maelia had started getting ready for her party fifteen minutes after her parents left. After, of course, Tess gave her the rundown. No drinks whatsoever, everyone leaving by midnight, and clean up every mess that was made.

She had answered yes, yes, and yes to all those questions and smiled when her mother had rushed after her father, who had left as soon as he told Maelia absently to have fun. No be careful, no watch for boys. Just have fun.

Thinking about it, Maelia's smile wavered. Her eyes almost clouded with tears as her fingers clenched around the long neck of a soda bottle.

Then she heard the humming and forced the raging emotions down. It wouldn't do for Ryu to see her all choked up. He'd just make fun of her and Maelia desperately didn't want Ryu to make fun of her. No, not Ryu.

The said young man came out of the kitchen, carrying the food he had helped prepare. Maelia send him a sidelong glance. "Is that healthy enough to eat?"

With an incredulous groan Ryu plucked one of the chicken stripes he had baked and tossed it at her. "One way to find out."

Smiling playfully, Maelia took a careful bite from the meat. Moments later she tried not to look like she had taken a trip into heaven. "It's okay… I guess." She placed the rest in her mouth and gritted back on the groan of pleasure.

"Gee…" Ryu muttered and he placed the plate down on one of the tables he and Maelia had dragged onto the floor. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"So…" Ryu glanced at her over his shoulder and did one long take of her outfit. "You gonna wear that to the party?"

"Hmm?" Maelia glanced down. She wore two tank tops, one over the other, in green and yellow so the straps crisscrossed in the back and on her shoulders. She wore short, short camouflage shorts and platform sneakers in red and white. Her hair had been cut into a bob around her head earlier that year and Maelia had decided that she rather liked the look since it showed her shapely neck.

"That." Ryu didn't mention that most guys would be hoping she wore that outfit since it gave them all a good look of the generous curves that she had been born with.

"Of course not!" Maelia said and laughed. She reached down to the chair at her side and pull out a black zipper-up hoodie. It was plan until he caught the words on the back. _Naughty Ottsel_ in red letters. "You like? Mom's new line of merchandise."

"Uh-huh," Ryu muttered and tried to look disinterested. His father could always pull it off, but Ryu himself couldn't.

Maelia crinkled her nose at Ryu and frowned. "Whatever…" She turned from him and went about setting up the dishes. "So, are you bringing along your girlfriend?"

"Who? Moira?"

"I don't know any other giggling blonde bimbos," Maelia shot back.

"Hey, I thought we'd lay off Moira," Ryu protested and grinned in teasing when Maelia gave him a look. "Besides, I don't make fun of your boy toys do I?"

"My boys aren't idiots," Maelia snapped angrily. "All Moira basically does is giggle and drink. If she does anything _else_ I don't wanna to know." She raised her eyebrows at Ryu. "Does she do anything else?"

"None of your business."

"Pooh…" Maelia mumbled and pouted, sending him a sour look. "You're no fun."

"And you're immature," Ryu shot back with a shake of his head. Maelia planted her hands on her hips and glared at him with hard hatred.

"I am not!"

Ryu laughed and it was loud and mocking and Maelia's heart dropped to her feet. "Maelia, you're just a little kid. You run around with all these boys and try to look cool, but inside you're just a little lost girl."

"No! I am not a little girl!" she screamed as her face paled. It stung because looking into Ryu's face told Maelia he believed it. "You think you're so mature? You're only three years old than me!"

"I'm not a little boy, though. That's the difference between you and me. You're still locked in your selfish, childish little world where you have to have everything your way or no way at all." Ryu watched her eyes darkened but wouldn't stop. "That's it, isn't it, Maelia?"

"Get out!" she hissed. She grabbed a plate and tossed it at his head. "Get the hell away from me, you bastard!"

"It's the truth, Mae. You need to start growing up." He didn't know why but the words were pouring out, as if they were an endless stream that wouldn't stop no matter what he did. Even as he saw the actual hurt and pain in her eyes, his lips wouldn't stop moving.

Ryu didn't want to hurt her anymore. She looked close to snapping already, trembling in rage and grief. So as the tears started to stain her cheeks, he turned and walked away. He was sorry, but he wasn't sure how to say so.

Maelia collapsed to her knees and wrapped her fingers around her arms. She glared at the spot where Ryu had been standing moments before.

_You're just a little lost girl…_

"You'll see," she whispered and rubbed ferociously at her eyes under they were red and irritated. "I'm not so little, Ryu…"

--&--

Maelia's party was already bouncing when Aithne showed up with Cyren in tow. She had had a long and involved argument with Keira on what time she would start coming home. Aithne thought one, Keira said eleven. They decided midnight was alright, albeit Keira did so reluctantly.

"I dunno if I'm gonna dance," Aithne admitted and gave the blonde at her side a small smile. "I'm not so good at it."

Cyren's eyes fell to the hips barely covered by her jean and resisted the blush coming to his cheeks. "I bet you're a wonderful dancer," he mumbled.

She laughed and grinned widely at him. "You're such a sweetie." She pinched his cheeks in a friendly manner, her body sliding against his. Cyren was well aware of it, but Aithne for the most part seemed to be oblivious to the intimate slide of bodies. "You'll have to dance with me, Cy."

He imagined it and his eyes almost crossed. They would dance close and their clothes with be sweaty and skin-tight. His hands on her hips, hers on his neck, legs twined, Aithne's dark blue eyes almost black with shock and surprise. He'd smile at her and—

Well, he wasn't sure what he'd do if…

_Don't think about it_, he commanded himself as they entered the Naughty Ottsel. He stood close to her, his eyes serious as he scanned the boys already dancing. Most had girls on their arms and the electric beat of the music had bodies slamming against each other intimately.

When Aithne walked in, hips swinging, a young man whistled, eyeing the snug fit of her jeans. Before Cyren could make his threat clear, Aithne was swinging around and stomping over to his.

"You got a problem?" she demanded the attractive teenager, planting her hands on her hips.

The boy eyed her body unabashed and grinned slowly in what he would have considered a winning smile. "None that I can think of."

"Good. And don't screw around with me." Her face turned quickly into a scowl as she planted her boot onto his foot. The boy yelped and jumped into the air as Aithne grabbed his collar. "I'm not interested in a loser SOB like you."

"What a bitch," the boy muttered and offered her a glare. "Jak Mar's girl or not. You ain't worth it."

At the mention of the name, Aithne's eyes almost went black with rage. She let go in disgust and snapped at Cyren, "Let's go before I kill him."

Nodding, Cyren placed a hand on the small of her back and led her away, sending a dangerous glare over at the boy. The boy's back went up and he sent a nervous glance over his shoulder.

Even though Cyren had not been known to get violent, most had seen him fight in Zen-Fai's gun and fighting tournaments. And, since he had turned fourteen, had won every one of them.

Cyren was not someone you wanted on your bad side. And, apparently, anyone who missed with Aithne earned a place on his list. Not that Aithne needed the protection, mind you.

Maelia waved Aithne over and the young woman hurried over, leaving Cyren to be swarmed by a mass of adoring girls.

"Hiya, Aithne," Maelia greeted and handed her friend a drink from behind the bar. It was one of the few she was sure wasn't spiked.

Aithne accepted it and gladly. "I think everyone is here, Mae-Mae," she teased with a small grin as she sloshed her drink. "Everything teen in Haven must be crowded into the bar."

"Na-uh," Maelia counted and waved as another wave of teenagers entered. "Some are making out in the closet." Aithne burst out laughing.

"You're so weird… Mae," Aithne muttered and than watched as Cyren threw his eyes heavenward as his raging fangirls did not break away from him. Even as she laughed in good humor, an angry feeling settled low in her stomach. "If you don't mind, Mae-Mae, I have to go rescue Cyren from the clutches of skanks."

Maelia took her drink as Aithne stomped towards her friend. The girls parted like the Red Sea for her and Aithne grabbed Cyren's arm. She demanded he dance with her and, as Cyren threw her a thankful look, he escorted her to the dance floor.

"I'm weird, Aithne. You don't even realize you're attracted to Cy over there…" Maelia shook her head. Poor Aithne. She had a fear of intimacy that the girl didn't even realize she had.

Her eyebrow went up, way up, as Ryutaro finally strode into the Naughty Ottsel. She was surprised to see him. Apparently, Ryu was braver than she had thought. Honestly, she had thought she wouldn't be seeing him for another few days.

Those bottled green eyes met hers from across the room and she watched as Ryu sent her a look and a smirk. Maelia thought about what Ryu had said earlier: _you're just a little girl._ Obviously, he still thought so.

Anger boiled her blood as her eyes narrowed. Little girl, was she? Well, Ryu would see just how little Maelia was.

Knowing he was still watching her, Maelia stalked across the room. "Sloane!" she called and the boy turned and grinned, answering her with a motion to join him. Laughing, she skipped over to him.

_Little girl, Ryu? We'll see._

--&--

Ryu watched as Cyren and Aithne slid their bodies together as the fast beat of the music pulsed above them. Aithne's arms were around Cyren's neck and Cyren had his big hands on her tiny waist.

He told himself that it was perfectly normal for them to dance like that. He had no right to feel the urge to pull them apart and give Cyren a good talking to and send Aithne home. He wasn't Aithne's father or mother.

But he did feel like that. He felt like running to them and grabbing Aithne by the ear and telling her that that was no way for a young lady to act. Ryu had felt the same way when he had first seen Aithne's punked out outfit. He had wanted to throttle and chastise her.

It had always been there, this feeling, this need, to protect Aithne. And he wasn't sure why it happened. Maybe it was because she didn't have a father. Or maybe it was because he needed something to protect. Ryu wasn't cut out to be Torn's son or a Krimzon Guard. The least he could do was protect the daughter of Jak Mar, the man that had saved his city time and time again.

_Cyren wouldn't hurt Aithne purposely_, Ryu told himself as he turned his head and clenched his fists. _Yeah, he's got the hots for her, and Aithne's cute in a boyish kinda way. But he's Zen-Fai's son and Zen-Fai is a strict old bastard… Cyren wouldn't dare corrupt Aithne, right?_

Whatever…

Telling himself he didn't care, that Aithne was old enough to take care of herself, didn't do anything for Ryu. He still wanted to drag Cyren and Aithne apart. He still wanted to put a thick jacket over Aithne's body.

His eyes caught strawberry-blonde hair glowing orange in the overhead lights. Maelia was in a corner of the bar, back propped against the wall, with one leg wrapped around the hips of her latest boy-toy and hands locked in his hair.

Ryu's vision was suddenly hazed with red. From his position he couldn't see much, but by circling the room he got a picture of what Maelia and her boyfriend—wasn't his name Sloane or something?—were doing.

The young man had one hand pushing up Maelia's shirt and the strawberry blonde girl was making no move to stop him. The other hand that belonged to the boy was trying to loosen her short so his hand could slip down…

He was _dead_.

Without thinking, Ryu made a dash to them, walking purposely and powerful. All but snarling he grabbed the boy's shoulder and hauled him away. Maelia, eyes wide and lips kiss-swollen, looked up at him and blinked in surprise. He sent her a glare.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His attention jerked back to the boy who was trying to free himself from the ruthless grasp Ryu had on his lapels. When Ryu's heated glare fell on him he stilled and looked around pitifully.

"Nothin', man," he muttered and kept his head lowered. "Nothin'. She was… you know… offering and we've been dating for a while…"

"Fuck off," Ryu snapped and Maelia winced at his language. He didn't pay attention to it. "I caught you sniffing around her again and you won't be _breathing_."

"Yeah, whatever," he snapped. His male ego had been bruised badly and since Maelia wasn't moving to defend him he knew she hadn't really been all that interested him in the first place.

"Poor Sloane," Maelia said. That wasn't how she had planned it. Ryu was just supposed to watch her let Sloane get to second base. He certainly wasn't supposed to storm over and threaten Sloane with visible harm. "You're mean."

She made a move to brush pass him, sending a scathing look his way. Ryu wasn't having it. He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, pushing her back against the wood frame of the wall. He glared into her eyes as they raised and narrowed.

"What?" Maelia demanded. She angled her chin and dared him to hit it with her eyes. "What's wrong, Ryu?"

"Just what the hell to do you think your playing at?" Ryu demanded.

"Playing at? I can do whatever I want!" she threw into his face. "You're the one who's acting like a jerk. Now I have to go find and Sloane and apologize for what _you_ did. He's very sensitive, you know."

Ryu didn't reach for her this time as she walked by. He simply stared ahead, at the wall where he had pushed her, and stood still.

Maelia stopped walking until he turned and looked at her. Disgust lined his eyes and Maelia's stomach pivoted in pain and grief. Without realizing it she was gushing, "Of course, he'll be very upset. I'll just have to… have to… make it up to him." She ran her tongue over her lips and let that hang in the air.

"Damnit," he cursed as anger came back into his eyes. As Maelia started to walk away again, he grabbed her by the shoulders. "Stop being a child."

"I am not a child, you sonofabitch!" she screeched but no one could hear her over the rush of the music. "Don't tell me I am!"

Because she was going to storm by him again he grabbed her and, as she screamed, threw her over his shoulder. Muttering under his breath he carried her upstairs, ignoring the fists she pounded on his back and her flailing legs.

When they reached her room, he tossed her onto her bed and her petite body gave a bounce. She wheeled around and cursed at him viciously.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she demanded, staring up at him from her bed. "You bastard. What do you think you're doing?"

"NO!" he thundered and Maelia feel silent. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You're nothing more than a child and you're letting that jackass put his hands all over you." The very memory of it had his vision going blurry.

"I'm not a child!" she shot back as her eyes went hot and liquid. "And what do you know of it? I can do whatever I want."

"You're acting like a whore," he hissed.

In a blinking of an eye, Maelia was kneeling on her bed and had slapped him across the face. The echo of it sounded loudly in the sudden silence of the room. Maelia's face was flushed and her breathing was heavy and she looked shocked at what she had done. Ryu's head was turn to the side and an angry red mark bloomed on his cheek while his eyes remained hidden behind his hair.

Then he looked up at her and Maelia show the dangerous glint in his emerald eyes. Very slowly he said, "Hit me again." It was a threat, a promise of physical pain he would give her if she laid her hands on him again.

_You child_, Ryu's voice said inside her head. Maelia growled deep in her throat and raised her hand for another slap. As her wrist descended he caught it and held, his eyes almost dark enough to be black.

Looking into his eyes, Maelia feared she would be sent flying across the room.

Snarling, Ryu pushed her onto the bed and took a step back. He didn't hit girls, he didn't hit girls. He told himself over and over again as his fists clenched at his side.

For a long moment they stared at each other, Maelia glaring and Ryu just staring. Then, as Ryu snarled again, Maelia lunged. "You fucking _bastard_! I hate you so much. I hate you!"

He caught her as she flew at him, swinging her around. Maelia beat at his chest as Ryu's nails dug into her back.

"Ryutaro Praxis, you are horrible!" Maelia shouted as her legs rose to wrap around his waist for balance. "I hope you die a horrible bleeding death!"

"I bet you do!" Ryu shouted right back into her face as they glared at each other.

Then they were kissing.

Ryu and Maelia fell down onto the bed, Maelia beneath and Ryu on top. He raised his knees to keep his weight off her and Maelia legs were still locked around his waist.

Maelia yanked at his shirt, pulling at the fabric. She withered beneath him, moaning. "Yes, yes," she managed between kisses. She chewed on his neck, sliding her body against his in a way that was more instinctual than from experience. She clawed at the taunt skin on his back when she lifted her shirt above his shoulder blades.

Answering her moan with his own, Ryu unlocked Maelia's legs from around his waist and pushed her feet into the bed so her knees were bent. His fingers ran up the inside of her thighs, across her hips, along her stomach. He caressed her breasts as he bit her bottom lip. He lifted her shirt and slipped his fingers into the warmth of her skin.

Then it hit him.

What the hell was he doing?

"Shit," he managed as he pulled himself off her. Maelia looked up at him, dazed. Her lips were huge and swollen. From his kisses. Not Sloane's.

"What?" she squeaked, choking on her emotions and the fear of rejection. She pulled herself from the bed and looked at his guilt-filled eyes. No, rejection was better than guilt.

She felt like she was going to break into a million pieces. And she didn't want to do it at his feet. No, she couldn't possibly collapsing into weeping ball at his feet. It would be much too humiliating.

"I thought you'd be better at it," she forced out, making her words calm and easy-going.

"What?"

"Kissing. You know. The thing we just did." She patted his cheek in a friendly matter even as her stomach twisted. "I thought you being oh-so old you'd be good at it. You were okay, but I've kissed better."

"You think… you think this was about… _making out_?" Ryu's eyes went blind again, staring out her window.

"Well, wasn't it? I'm glad we got that out of the way. Now, I think I'll go back down to the party if you don't mind. I _am_ the hostess, after all." She smiled because she knew that if she didn't she'd just break down and sob like the little girl he thought she was.

"Damnit…" he hissed as Maelia strode boldly pass him, her hips swinging tantalizingly.

Maelia made her way back down to the party, choking on her tears. No, she would not cry. Ryu could not break her that easily. She was strong. She had lived without love her entire life and she could do it again.

But she remembered how Ryu's hands had felt on her body, as if he owned her. She shivered with the sudden want that swamped her. No one had made her feel like Ryu had in that moment. No boyfriend she had ever had made her wither and beg and plead until she couldn't think.

Ryu could.

"Damnit…" Maelia muttered as she went into the flashing lights of her party.

A new woman.

--&--

Maelia groaned and she rolled off her bed. The morning sunlight hurt her head, drilling holes into her skull. All she wanted to do was curl under her sheets and stay asleep.

Smells reached her nose. Cooking smells. Her mother and father's voices reached her ears. They were up already and her mother was making breakfast. Sweet, wonderful breakfast with coffee.

She stood and stretched. She should not have tried that alcohol when she had returned to the party. But Ryu had been watching her as if he was disgusted with her and she had swallowed the brandy to drown out his eyes. She had seen no other way.

Groggily, she made her way down the narrow steps towards the kitchen of the Naughty Ottsel. The smells that normally made her stomach rumble in hunger and lust made it twist and hiss. Maelia pressed a hand to it.

"Hey, Mom," she hoped her voice didn't come off as raspy as it felt. Her voice scrapped against her throat on the way up and it was all she could do not to pass out right on the spot. "Smells… good…"

"You're favorite!" Tess said chirpy, motioning to the fraying pain she was flipping. "Bacon and eggs!" Her daughter's face turned positively green. "What's wrong? You look sick, Mae-Mae."

"Argh…" she answered and grabbed the edge of the counter. "Too much soda and not enough food." _Way, way too much brandy. What the hell was I thinking? I'll never drink ever, ever again._

"Poor baby," Tess said sympathetically. Her mind whispered that she should be suspicious but a selfish part of her didn't want to believe what was obviously true. She didn't want to press her daughter.

"Maybe you should go back to sleep," Daxter suggest as he chewed on his own egg and bacon sandwich. "Sleep always makes me feel better."

"No. I'm fine. Actually, I wanted to talk to you." Maelia took a seat at the table. "Mom… Dad… I've come to a crossroad in my life and I—I think I know what I want t—to do with my life."

Tess blinked at her daughter's serious face and very slowly to her own seat. The bacon sizzled, forgotten. "And… that is…?"

"I'd like to join the Krimzon Guard."

For a long moment there was silence in the room. Tess just stared at her daughter, as if she had no idea who the girl was, as if a stranger had taken over Maelia's skin. Daxter's fork clattered to his plate, forgotten, as he gazed in open-mouth horror at his only child.

"W—what?" that was Tess, choking on her words.

"The Krimzon Guard," Maelia elaborated with a wave of her hand. "I'd like to join it, Mom. I—I think I could do good there." That wasn't true. It was the complete opposite. She was terrified of the men in red.

But what other choice did she have? Everything else wasn't working. Or, at least, it felt like it wasn't working. Whenever she kissed a boy—expect for that one with Ryu—she felt like she doing something wrong, even though the boys had nothing but complements to say about it afterwards. Whenever she tried to work, at the Naughty Ottsel or anywhere else, she felt like she just getting in the way.

The Krimzon Guard was her last chance. Maybe her calling really was there. Really.

Or maybe Daxter would actually react. Maybe he would care. Maybe he would forbid her because it was too dangerous and no daughter of his was going to do something like that.

"Daddy?" she asked softly, her eyes shining with hope and love and loneliness. "What do you think?" _Tell me it's too dangerous and you're not having it. Tell me you love me too much to see me risk my life like that… Daddy… Daddy please…_

"I think…" Daxter paused and frowned, looking into his daughter's eyes. His chest ached, like a knife was digging itself into his ribs. He wanted to hold his little girl. But he was already too closed off and his fingers wouldn't obey his heart. They only listened to his head and his head was cold to his beating heart.

_Jak… Jak… what would you do if you were me? Would you let your Aithne go into the Krimzon Guard…? But you aren't here, are you, Jak? You'll never be here again will you?_

"I think," he began again, more carefully and controlled this time. "I think you would be a fine Krimzon Guard member, Mae. And you're old enough now to make your own decisions…"

Maelia's heart was bleeding now. She felt the warm blood inside her dripping down from her core and dosing her other organs in it. "Mom?"

"Your father's right, Maelia." Tess didn't want to argue with her daughter. Not when she looked like she would crack like fine glass. She just wanted her daughter to be happy. That was all.

Why couldn't they be happy?

"Go—good," Maelia managed. But it wasn't good. Why couldn't they just care about her? Why couldn't her mother act like a mother? Why was she always trying to be on her good side?

Why couldn't her father love her?

"I'm gonna head over to the palace in a bit, get the applications and stuff…" Maelia stood and her fists clenched at her side as she looked at the two people she loved the most and couldn't, for the life of her, get them to treat her as their daughter.

"Good… good…" Tess murmured in a detached voice. She watched her daughter go and looked over at her husband. "Daxter…" she began.

He patted her hand and tried to look reassuring. "She'll be fine, Tess. Mae's a strong girl. She'll be fine." That statement said itself over and over again in his head until he had no choice but to believe it.

"O—okay," his wife answered, but it was lined with doubt.

--&--

It was late afternoon when Aithne managed to drag herself out of bed. Unlike Maelia it wasn't because she had gone against her mother's orders and drank. No, it was because her dreams had been haunted by imposing nightmares.

_Blood… so much blood… all over her hands, soaking her legs, sticking to her entire body, flowing at her knees like a river. Crimson pouring on her head like a waterfall. Little children floated deadweight in the bloody pool, screaming for mercy, pulling at her clothes, trying to climb up her. Each one fell back down and drowned in the blood, the red pouring out from their eyes and mouths._

_Screaming… screaming… so much screaming…_

_Then there was Cyren. Cyren with a gaping hole in his heart, a blood ball hovering over his palms as he stared at her with his dark, dark eyes. "I didn't know, Aithne," he whispered, as if imploring her to understand. "I didn't… I'm sorry… so sorry…"_

_Haven City behind him, burning from the inside out. The smell of decaying flesh. She saw their bodies littering the floor. Maelia with her chest gutted, Ryu lying on top of her with a sword in his back. Keira with her face torn off, Ashlin impaled on a spear, Torn's torso eaten off. Samos_ _burned alive, Sig with his face blown off…_

_Cyren grabbed her chin as she screamed in horror. He kissed her, her flailing doing nothing to stop him. She tasted his blood from where a dagger had been pushed into his chin and she tasted his sweat and his tears._

_Sweet, innocent Cyren. Her best friend. He slumped against her and she atomically held him up. His blood dribbled down from her chin and slid down the column of her throat. She was sobbing but her tears were red and blood and tasted like the burning flesh of her grandfather._

"_I'm so sorry… all my fault… shoulda never lived through…" Cyren went still against her, coughing blood on her white bodysuit._

"_CYREN?" But he wasn't listening, of course. Cyren was dead like everyone else. And Aithne was all alone._

_Born alone, die along…_

"_Why don't you just do everyone a favor and die before this happens?" She turned to the voice and stared into the blue eyes that she had seen in posters and pictures, blue eyes that stared back at her whenever she looked into a mirror._

"_Jak…" she whispered and dropped to her knees, trembling. Her almost-dad. Not good enough father. Blonde hair dashed with green, strong features, good looks. Women swooned at his name and her mother went so sad when she thought about him._

"_I never wanted you. You disgust me. You pulled your mother and I away. If it weren't for you, we'd still be happy. Keira and I._ _Where do you fit in that mix?" He laughed viciously and the laughter bounced around in her head._

"_No, it's a lie. Mom wants me… she loves she…" She dropped Cyren and he fell in a bloody heap at her feet. Screaming, she bent down and touched him. His eyes were so lifeless in his face. So cold and dead… like the doll her mother had given her…_

"_You can't love anyone, Aithne. It's not in your nature… and no one can love you." Jak Mar aimed a gun at her head. Aithne didn't flinch. "Die and make everyone happy, Aithne…"_

"_Die…" she repeated blindly as she heard the safety of the gun being unlocked. "Everyone will be happy…?"_

_Jak Mar laughed manically and pulled the trigger._

Aithne shuddered at the very memory. Jak Mar's face had been so real. And the dream had been so vivid. If she closed her eyes she saw her friends' bloodied bodies and the burning walls of Haven City.

That was why she wasn't going to Cyren's place. She couldn't face him when she knew all she would see was that blind, helpless child-look in his eyes… and taste the blood in his mouth and the feel of him pressing against her body.

No… no, her wicked dreams wouldn't touch Cyren.

Instead, she went to the Naughty Ottsel to bother Maelia. The horrid way in which Maelia had died had all but faded from her memory. The only thing that had stuck in her memory was Jak Mar's face and Cyren's lost look.

"Hey," she greeted Maelia. With a raised eyebrow she watched as Maelia hurriedly tucked papers under her arms, keeping them from Aithne's view. "What's with the spy act?"

"Ah… I'm writing a love letter to Sloane?" Maelia suggested lamely, looking sheepish. She still wouldn't let Aithne take even a peep at the paper she stuffed under her arm.

"Na-uh," Aithne protested instantly. "If you had been you would have wanted me to edit and proofread."

"Seriously, Aithne. It's nothing important." When Aithne made a reach for it Maelia jumped away. "C'mon, just let it alone, okay?"

"Maelia…" Aithne began just as Ryu strode in. She felt Maelia go tense beside her and noticed Ryu's attempt to avoid her eye.

"Well, hullo, Ryu," Maelia drawled and smiled slowly.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Maelia?" Ryu demanded. He seemed be having trouble breathing all of a sudden.

"What are you talking about, Ryu?" Aithne demanded, placing herself in front of Maelia and Ryu. They fought, a lot, but Ryu looked ready to actually harm Maelia. Or at least throttle her.

Ryu ignored her as his eyes burn holes in Maelia's back. "I just heard from my mother that you applied for a job within the Krimzon Guard ranks."

Aithne gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth.

"So what if I did?" Maelia demanded hotly, thrusting her chin out in stubborn manner. "Mommy and Daddy said I could! I have their permission and I don't remember ever needing your permission, _Ryu_."

"You—you're joining the Krimzon Guard?" Aithne managed and felt like she was about to pass out. But then the anger came into her head and blurred her vision. "Maelia… how could YOU?"

Maelia wheeled around, forgetting her argument with Ryu. "Aithne—" she began but Aithne jerked away, glaring at her.

"Get away from me!" Aithne shouted. "Didn't you tell me the Krimzon Guard was no good? You goddamn hypocrite."

"No, Aithne. It isn't like that… please listen," Maelia whispered helplessly as hatred filmed over Aithne's blue eyes. _No, no. Not you, too, Aithne. Please not you, too._ "It wasn't supposed to... I mean, I—"

"Don't you dare touch me!" Aithne shouted into her face and Maelia flinched. "You knew how important the Krimzon Guard is to me and knew I can't join it! How dare you call yourself _my_ friend and join it when I can't!"

It was selfish and childish, she knew. But Aithne had wanted nothing more than to be in the Krimzon Guard. Maelia had never cared for it like she had. What right did she have to be able to join it when it didn't mean as half as much to her as it did Aithne? When she had said the Krimzon Guard was worthless?

"I don't ever want to see you again!" Aithne spat, turned on her heel, and ran as fast as her legs would take her.

"She—she'll get over it," Maelia muttered dejectedly as she wrapped her fingers around her arms and shivered. "Aithne always comes around, doesn't she?" Her eyes were blind as she lowered herself to the ground.

"Mae-Mae." Any other time Ryu would have embraced her, would have comforted. But all he could think about was the feel of her body underneath him. He couldn't hold her with those thoughts in his head.

So he walked away and left Maelia to herself put. She stood in her too big zipper-up hoodie and wished her shorts and tank tops would walk away without her. She wished she could slip into darkness and forget to breathe.

But all she did was cry.

--&--

As tears made her blind, Aithne found herself standing at Cyren's door. Before she could tell herself to turn around and go home and not bother Cyren with all her pathetic life problems, her fist was rapping on the door.

Cyren opened it, a can of pop in his hand and blinked at her. "Aithne?" He looked at the tear streaks on her cheeks and the liquid lining her eyes and his eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

She gave a broken cry and buried herself into his arms. The dream of him bleeding and dying faded from her memory as his warm arms wrapped around her back. Her head dipped onto his shoulder and she told him about Maelia and the Krimzon Guard and her hopes and her shattered dream.

"Is it my problem, Cy?" she asked as Cyren took her arm and led her into his house. He poured her some green tea, as was his custom, and sat her down. "Am I being completely childish and selfish by being mad at Maelia?"

"It's always hard to see someone else live your dream, Aithne," Cyren admitted. "And it's even harder knowing that the people they love the most support them. Maelia has both the support and acceptance of her parents. And your—"

"My mother will never support or permit me," Aithne sighed as her fingers tightened over the handle of her cup. "It just makes me so angry, Cyren. It's not Maelia's fault… but I… I hate her for living my dream!"

"Aithne." Cyren reached for her hand and stroked her knuckles.

"God, Cyren. I'm such a bitch, aren't I?" Aithne gave him a weak smile that only made Cyren sadder than before. "Why is it when I always have a problem I end up running to you?"

"I don't mind, really. I like helping, Aithne." Cyren watched as Aithne pulled her hand from his and paced the floor.

"If only… if only I could join the Krimzon Guard. I know it means more to me than it ever will to Maelia or anyone else." Aithne rubbed her temples. "I just want to do something with my life, be something. Mom has me locked away in a tower like some ivory princess."

"Perhaps I can offer a solution, Miss Hagai." Cyren turned in his chair and watched as his father entered the room, cleaning the shining silver of a sword. His dark eyes were calm as he studied the girl flushed with anger and hurt.

"Mr. Zen-Fai," Aithne said and tried to keep the anger and weariness from her voice. She respected the old man but his was so annoyingly wise that sometimes it just irked her. "What do you mean?"

"Forgive me, but I could not help but overhearing, Miss Hagai, of your situation." Zen-Fai regarded her in his calm, considering eyes. "Your mother has forbid you to join the Krimzon Guard _and_ the Wastelanders correct?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I am not part of the Krimzon Guard or the Wasteland, but I train much like they do." There was a small smile on his lips and he let it soothe the girl. "You can learn to fight as your friend will and you can compete in the tournament games I have here and earn the glory you seem to yearn for."

"You'd do that? For me?" Aithne blinked and looked over at Cyren, as if to ask him if what she was hearing was true. The blonde boy just smiled at her.

"Yes. And Cyren would not doubt be pleased to have you as his training companion," Zen-Fai pointed out. Cyren blushed but his father said nothing about it. "What do you say, Miss Hagai?"

"Thank you! Of course!" She almost leapt into his arms but Zen-Fai sent her a stern look. Gulping, Aithne cooled her features. If she was going to train with Zen-Fai she knew she would have to act the part.

"I expect you to be here shortly after dawn. We start our training sessions then. They last until the afternoon, sometimes longer. It will not be easy, nor will it come at once naturally. It is vigorous and relentless. You must be ready." Zen-Fai was not trying to change her mind. He was simply stating the facts.

"Of course, I will be." She would have to sneak out, of course. Even if it wasn't the Krimzon Guard or the Wastelanders she was joining, Aithne had the feeling Keira wouldn't be happy with it all the same.

"C'mon, Aithne," Cyren said, offering his father a small grin. "Let's go for a walk." He touched her shoulder and Aithne nodded with an answering smile.

"Sure," she answered and allowed herself to be taken away.

--&--

There were silence around her, the smell of blood and rotting flesh. Darkness floated in her head, drowning out her human thoughts. For a moment, she was a lifeless body lying still on a metal table.

Then there was the hum of machines. Almost painfully, air was forced into her lungs and she felt herself draw the first painful grasp. Newborns were the only ones meant to take that first gasp of life but she knew that she was not a newborn. She felt old, worn limbs and frail bones.

_Breathe in and out… in and out… in and out…_

The command had her obeying before she even realized what she was doing. Her fingers itched at the sides of her long legs. Her toes wiggled.

"Well, are you done sleeping?" the voice was just about her. It was powerful and confident and offered no opening to argue.

_Master. Must obey._ _Obey Master._ The words were in her head. They had been placed in their years earlier but she had never heard them until now.

"Yes," she answered in a voice that was remote and cold. She sat up without hesitation, her eyes opening calmly and without fluttering. The darkness didn't frighten her, the knowledge that she didn't know who or what she was didn't anger her.

Nothing touched her as she stared ahead and waited for the next command.

A light flickered on and she didn't flinch. Her body wasn't even aware of the change in light. She continued to stare out ahead. Her hands rested uselessly in her lap. She wouldn't move unless she was told to.

"Come here," the man commander. He was handsome and blonde and boyish, looking innocent even with the beady, dark look in his eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes," she answered again and swung her legs over the table. She was naked, she knew that. She could feel the cold air brushing against her skin. But she wasn't embarrassed nor ashamed. All she did was walk over to the man and bow. "You are my master. I will obey you."

"The first of the successes," the Master said and touch her head. Her skin didn't crawl. Her heart didn't thump in terror or admiration. "You will be my assassin. Tell me who you are."

"Your assassin," she replied and kept her head bowed. _Obey at all times. You are nothing._ Where had those words come from? Who put them in there? Did it matter now? Did it matter to her?

No, of course not. She was her Master's servant.

"Nothing else. I am what you wish of me." Maybe there was some part of her that would have protested long ago to that statement. But it had died with the poison that had been pumped into her bloodstream.

"Yes. Nothing more." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "You have the ability to feel some human emotions. They're just turned off right now. In time the basic ones will return to you. Being the prototype you'll be more human than the rest. But don't worry, your emotions will not interfere with your work."

"Yes. I understand." _I am your servant. Loyal, unquestioning. I shall do as you wish. I will obey your commands._ "Shall I train now, Master?"

"No. That will come tomorrow." The Master stroked her wrist. "First, you'll get dressed. Then I will show you your future army then you will be introduced to Sage-Harmona."

"Sage-Harmona." The name was in her foggy brain. In a streamline, the information flew in. "A city at the center of the world. The height of its flourish was exactly four point three thousand years ago."

"Yes. Good thing he put all that information into your head, isn't it? You'll just be a vat of information." He grinned at her and wrapped a thick blanket around her body. It was cold in the room and her body was shivering from it, but she wasn't even aware of it. "You'll have met him. The Mage."

She remembered him. His dark eyes staring down at her as his wrinkly hands ran over her body, the feeling of those fingers pushing needle-point tubes into her veins. The feeling of being ripped apart. She shivered and her body pushed the memory away.

"Yes. I should. You are my Master but he will command me as well." She wrapped the blanket around her like a toga and stared straight ahead at the door. "I will help you as you see fit."

"So perfect. Even with those human flaws we can't get rid of." He stroked her face and she didn't look at him, didn't flinch. "Do you know my name?"

"Yes." She looked at him now, straight into his eyes and felt nothing. "You are Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. You are now Lord General of Sage-Harmona. And I am your servant. You created me for the purpose of furthering your exploits."

"Good, very good. Well than, Girl, shall we go and get you dressed so we can introduce you to the lowly humans you'll be reigning over?" Hirmoyarbeshi smiled slowly, watching as the coldness frosted her eyes.

"As you wish."

--&--

Aithne was still yawning when she and Cyren assembled on the blue mat at the former Gun course. She was leaning against her best friend, head on her shoulder, as she tried to stifle her yawn under her hand.

Zen-Fai came out towards them, looking as if he had slept twelve hours. "First we will go over the basic blocks and punches," he explained. "Cyren already has all this down, but for the first week he will help you train. In time, if I feel you are ready, I will allow you to fight with the weapon that matches your skills."

"Does Cyren fight with a weapon?" Aithne wanted to know and bestowed upon the blonde boy a wide smile.

"Yes. He does not have not much strength in the upper body so swords would not work with him. Instead, I gave him a modified bow staff." He tossed it to Cyren.

With a skill that came from years of training Cyren twirled the weapon between his fingers. It was long, longer than Cyren, and had two jagged points at the bottom. The body of the staff with a deep brown entwined with red paint. The sharp bottoms were bright silver with jagged sides that could work as a thrusting weapon and a slicing weapon.

"You're good at that," Aithne observed in pure admiration as the boy twirled the staff between his two hands. Cyren flipped it once before tossing it back to Zen-Fai.

He flushed in his custom way and said sheepishly, "Um… you'll be… just as good in time. You know? I've been doing it for years and everything…" At Zen-Fai's head shake he shut his mouth and saved himself further embarrassment.

"You will be learning the ancient art of Bushido. It has been in my family for generation after generation. It relies on speed and skill, not brute force. Assassins use this technique as well, enabling them to keep their bodies lean and fit for speed and at the same time making them deadly."

Aithne's smile had Zen-Fai frowning. It wasn't one of humor. It was purely fierce and territorial.

"However," he put in, "this must be taken seriously. With these skills comes responsibilities. You must use them only to defend yourselves and others under _extreme_ circumstances." He pointed a finger at Aithne's face. "This is not a game."

She nodded seriously and watched as beside her Cyren shifted into a cool warrior. His open face and wide eyes lowered until he was completely calm and collected. He turned to face her and she saw that there was still his unsure, easy-going grin on his face. "You ready, Aithne?"

"Bend your knees," Zen-Fai commented as Cyren crouched into a fighting position.

"Sir," Aithne replied as copied her opponent's crouch.

--&--

"Father," Ryu said to Torn as he entered his father's office within the palace walls.

"Hmm…" Torn made a nonchalant mumble but than blinked in surprise when he saw his son standing in his room. "Ryu?"

Ryutaro Praxis had made it a habit to never, _ever_, go into his father's office. All it did was remind him of the differences between him and his father. Torn's office was military neat and proper, lined with papers and reports filed to perfection. There were Krimzon Guard medals lining the walls and planks and pictures of Torn's time with the guard.

Maybe he was jealous. It always seemed that Torn cared more about his Krimzon Guard than he did Ryu. Oh no, Ryu never doubted that his father loved him, never. But the question was. Did Torn love his son enough? Enough for him to matter more than the Krimzon Guard.

That Ryu wasn't too sure off. Torn was always pushing him to join the Krimzon Guard. And he always refused. The disappointment Torn showed each and every time never ceased to make Ryu feel unloved and unwanted, a disappointment. Even Ashlin's praise at his wit and political prowess did not stop that the fact that the one thing Ryu wanted the most was his Father's respect and he wasn't getting it.

_Well, Dad's getting what he wants now so…_

"Dad, I… have a request." Ryu clasped his hands behind his back like he had seen the Krimzon Guard members do many times. "If you will hear it."

Smirking slightly, Torn leaned back in his chair. So, what did Ryu want now? "Yeah? What is it?"

"I want to join the Krimzon Guard…"

Torn's eyebrows went up, way up. "Oh?" He leaned into his desk again and picked up a dark blue paper that had been resting on his desk. "That doesn't have anything to do with the fact that I have Daxter's brat's application on my desk, does it?"

"She's not a brat…" he mumbled and shuffled his feet. Why did his father always manage to make him feel like a little boy again? "And what if it does have something to do with that?"

"Nothing…" Torn folded his hands and sent his son a considering look. "So, you want to join the Krimzon Guard? I trust you have the correct applications?"

"Yes, Dad… er… I mean, sir," Ryu answered and handed his father the paper he had spent hours grueling over. "Here it is."

"Very well. You can start in two weeks. That's when your little Maelia starts." He smiled slowly when Ryu's face flushed.

"She not my—"

"You'll make a fine, soldier."

And for the first time in Ryu's life, he thought Torn looked proud of him.

-

**AN:** yeah, it seems this nex-gen kids never get a chance, do they? Daxter's aloof, Torn has emotional issues, and Jak is… nonexistent. And you what? The only who seems normal is Cyren… well, you know that won't last long, right?

**Act XI:** the last act of Part Two. Fire and hell, the death of a character, some shocking revelations from Cyren, and more angst. Surprising, I know.

**Reviews**

**Specter Von Baron:** you're right with waiting, except for two cases. One is Kingdom Hearts II. That has gone on long ENOUGH! Two is Harry Potter. I just want that to end, no more waiting. Instant gratification please!

**Red Mage 04:** as long Jak IV remains in my profile, this will continued to be updated. Randomly? Yes. But updated nonetheless. And does Lokin _really_ come off as short, old, and creepy? That… rocks!

**ChatterBox101:** omigod! She updated AGAIN! It's a Christ-hana-kanz-adon miracle! So, you see I cleared up the Nyx and Nik problem… for now. Yes, I said… :dramatic pause: for now.

**Jack of Blades:** oh… ooooh! I see it now. er, sorry. But I'm glad you find last chapter worth the wait and hope this one was as well!

**Hellmouth2:** thank for your concern. I don't live down in New Orleans, but I was visiting family during the time Hurricane Katrina hit. It traumatized me a bit, and it took a while for my family to cope and I've spent a lot of my time helping them.

**Teh Kitsune:** wow. Long review. You are soooo cool::hug: Normally I'm not into racing games but I played Jak X 'cause Jak, right? I'm pleased and I've forgiven Naughty Dog since Keira and Jak are together (so it seems). I'm in the blue cup right now, but my brother's near the end so I just watch his to find out what happens. As for some of your guesses, some ARE right. I'm not going to tell you which ones… you'll see… mwhahahahahaha

**Light-Eco-Sage:** killing Jak? But wouldn't that be breaking the 11th Commandment? Thou Salt Not Kill Jak? I would never do that. But showing everyone what he's doing would give away the plot twists coming up.

**Jacklover123:** yes, Aithne is _very_ emotionally disturbed. And that is not entirely her fault. And I hope this doesn't seem _too_ long for you.

**Maieve Avvi:** except to be hearing from me on the fanart. I like updates… just as much as the next person. Oh… now I feel guilty.

**Helenilia:** I'm glad you like it. I'm hoping to get this updated faster. But… well, I hope for a lot of things.

**GundamWingFanatic90:** here are the answers to your questions (vaguely answers however) #1 I'm not telling #2 not telling #3 No #4 maybe, maybe not #5 you are the best and I will never be able to show my gratitude.

**Half Demon Mazaku:** there are a lot of fucked up things in here, as that should be apparent now. That's just what happens to kids with no parental guidance and those who lack those, they try to find it in different ways or they try to completely cut it off from them.

**GoodMorningBeautiful2005:** I assumed most of the people who would be reading Jak IV would be fans from Jak III, that's why I had no real summary of Jak III in this story. But I wrong. But I'm also lazy so I'm not adding it.

**Xazz:** I have made many of the main characters unlikable, huh? Daxter. Aithne. Maelia at times. Ryu sometimes. Torn at others. That's because I imagine, as they age, they attempt to adept to their situations and since their humans, they are often hindered by their flaws. That's why it's angst. Because sometimes people's plans fail and they can't deal with it. That's my definition of angst, the failures of humans and how they cope.


	11. Fire and Brimstone

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own _Jak II_ in any way. Also, I do not own _Kiff Fire_, she's on loan from Specter Von Baron, the awesome person that he is.

**AN:** ya'all are gonna love me. I had this chapter ready to go a _week_ before it's decided post date. That's right: A WEEK! Unfortunately for you guys out there… I didn't have the internet ;; In fact, the only reason why this is out _now_ is because I'm using my crappy AOL 7.0. God, I miss you DSL.

**WARNINGS:** well, aren't you lucky? No warnings this time. More to come. Next chapter likely.

* * *

**Act XI: Fire and Brimstone **

"Cadets, your training is officially over. As of today, you are Krimzon Guard members!" The lieutenant shouted at the youngsters in Krimzon Guard regalia. Beside him was Torn, eyeing the new Krimzon Guard members.

Maelia and Ryu were in the front row. They had earned the highest scores within their group, Ryu just barely pulling out ahead of Maelia. Apparently, they had taken it as a competition and that attitude had allowed them to best everyone in their attempts to have one-uped on each other.

Torn watched his son and couldn't help but feel the pride burn in his veins. Finally, Ryu was what Torn had always wanted him to be. A Krimzon Guard. Ryu looked fine in the bright red plates and black pants. A true soldier.

Already his mind was moving with images of bonding with his son in ways they couldn't before. They'd go on missions together, of course, and Torn would teach Ryu how to lead Haven City with a militant hand, not a political one. It was something Torn had always imagined, being able to bond with his son over the Krimzon Guard.

And Maelia… well, Daxter had to be proud now, didn't he? Top female Krimzon Guard cadet. She would no doubt be totting metals on her chest within months. How could Daxter ignore that accomplishment?

It was impossible for Torn to imagine someone not being proud of their child when they earned such honors before they were even out of the Krimzon Guard. Even Keira, if she ever broke down and let Aithne join the army, would no doubt be proud of her daughter if she earned such credit.

"Tomorrow," the lieutenant said, his voice commanding and confident from over ten years of Krimzon Guard work. "Will be your first assignment. Time to leave the sandbox, boys and girls. We'll be heading to the Pumping Station for Metal Head scout work. As you know the Metal Heads are acting up again…"

Torn stopped listening and turned from lieutenant. He knew what the man was going to say. He had given the orders himself. Slowly, in his rigid military posture, he descended the stairs behind the black platform.

Soldiers inclined their head in respect for their senior leader as Torn made his way into the palace. The Krimzon Guard training grounds had been attached to the palace years back, built with a domelike roof. There was an outside training ground and the inside had been covered with a tough flooring.

Ashlin was waiting for him when he entered the throne room, hands on hips. "Well?" she asked. There was just a hint of annoyance in her voice, but Torn wasn't surprised. It had been like that for the past year.

Since Ryu had thrown himself into the Krimzon Guard, to please his father and protect Maelia, he had been slacking on his political duties, slowly withdrawing from them until he only did the minimal work for his mother. There were no more council meetings, more arguing with nobles, no more campaigns. For Ryu there was only the Krimzon Guard.

"His first mission is tomorrow," Torn answered gruffly. "You could be a little more supportive of this." It was almost funny how their positions had changed. Before it was Ashlin always defending Ryu and his decisions and Torn being displeased.

She rubbed her temples in slow, repetitive motions. "I'm trying, Torn. You know I'm trying. It's just that… I never wanted my child involved with violence in anyway. I sacrificed so much to see to it they didn't have to…"

"Ryu's a fine soldier, Ashlin," Torn told her as he brought her against his chest, placing his big hands over her red dreadlocks. "He's got the genes for it. And I think maybe he's even starting to enjoy it. At first he just wanted to look after Daxter's girl but now…"

"I hope so. I just want him happy," Ashlin muttered as she leaned fully against him, allowing his strength to keep her upright. "That's all I want."

"I want him happy, too." And, at Torn's core, it was true. He didn't show it often and, when it did, it often came out as harshness but Torn's attitude towards Ryu all sprung from love. His need to see his son safe and protected.

But Torn and Ryu were different as night and day. And Torn didn't know how to handle that. The Krimzon Guard did not bred diverse people. For the Krimzon Guard members it was one way or no way.

_This is good for us,_ Torn thought as Ashlin left him to go congratulate Ryu despite her worries on his new title. This was how his family was going to stay together. The woman as the wily politician and the men as the defenders.

That was the only way it could, right? Torn didn't know. That was just how he was taught during his youth. And when they had been young and Haven City had still had Jak as a protector Ashlin had built up her dreams for her city. All Torn had been able to do was fight for those dreams.

Now those dreams were reality and the sturdy foundation of the city. Did Torn really have to fight for them now? Haven City had survived without Jak. Did they really need Torn?

It was a sickening thought. Torn being obsolete. It was true though. Once a war was finished what use was there for the soldiers who had fought in them? Broken dreams and broken promises, was all they were.

He hoped that this was the right choice.

--&--

"GO!"

Aithne grunted and rushed forward, sticking her shoulder out in an attempt to unbalance her opponent. Her hands were flattened in a defensive position, prepared to block if the time called for it.

Cyren was already prepared. As Aithne rushed at him he sidestepped her and grabbed her hips. When she started to wheel around, Cyren flipped her and pinned her to the mat. Aithne's legs swung up and out, forcing his arms to release her. She kicked herself to her feet and swung her arm. Cyren raised his wrist in the approximate block as his other arm came up for a swift cut. Aithne blocked it with her wrist and with a flurry of fast moves, keep Cyren on the defensive.

While the blonde boy was busy blocking her flying fists, Aithne's legs shut out and kicked his shins. He toppled over in pain and Aithne jumped onto him to complete the fatal blow. Cyren, however, was ready and his palms flattened against her shoulders as she landed on him and he flipped her again.

Using his superior weight, he pinned her against the mat, splaying his legs against her thighs and keeping his hands firm on her shoulders.

"Get off me," Aithne rasped, her breasts heaving from her exhortation. She bucked against him, but it didn't hurt Cyren so much as make his blood temperature rise. And he knew it showed on his cheeks. He just hoped Aithne was too busy to notice the blush staining his skin.

"Say… say please," Cyren said, trying to sound seductive but the effect was lost as he drew unsteady breaths.

Out of nowhere Aithne's shoulder came up and rammed into the side of his face. Cyren cursed and rolled away, feeling his bruised jaw. Aithne was already on her feet again, circling him like a lioness stalking her pray. Grumbling, Cyren got to his feet and began to circle as well.

"You didn't have to hit so hard," he answered, raising his fists in a defensive position in front of his face.

Aithne laughed. More like snorted, too out of breath to muster a proper laugh. "C'mon, Cyren! This is real practice. Win or lose. Live or die."

"Okay!" Cyren said and did an impressive spin that had him at Aithne's side before she could blink. When her eyes widened, he grabbed her throat and held her at an arm's length. "I have an advantage, Aithne. More practice."

"Jerk… lemego!" She struggled to get her leg at his throat, but Cyren grabbed her legs and swung her around. She then remained immobile against him, her arms locked in his hands, her legs tucked under his opposite arm, and her body pulled taunt against his back. No amount of bucking could free her.

"Say uncle!" Cyren grinned even though Aithne couldn't see it in her position. "Say uncle, Aithne, and I'll let you go."

"Bite me!" she hissed and it was obvious she wasn't going to give in.

"The winner is Cyren," that was Zen-Fai's voice. He had been watching the sparring match from a corner of his room, arms over his chest. He raised one eyebrow. "Disappointing, Cyren. You should have taken her down much earlier than that."

His blonde head went down in shame. "Forgive me, Father." He was too embarrassed to admit he had let Aithne's body cloud his judgment. Zen-Fai probably knew that, too. After all, he didn't ask his son for an explanation for his slowness.

"Make up for it," Zen-Fai commented and tossed Cyren his bow staff. Unlike his actual one, this wood staff lacked the jagged edges. It could cause bruises when hit hard enough, but nothing fatal. Or Cyren didn't know how to inflict a fatal move with just a wooden bow staff. Zen-Fai did and one day he would teach Cyren.

Aithne reached out just as Zen-Fai tossed her her own weapons. They were black and rusty, with three sharp points sticking out in a trident-like fashion. They were small like daggers and blunt so not to cause any real harm, like Cyren's plain staff.

Zen-Fai had decided Aithne's weapon was to be the sais, twin mini-tridents. Her real ones were made of the finest, brightest silver she had every seen and sharp enough to bite into skin with the simplest pressure. The hilts were a glittering red and made of a sturdy bronze. Zen-Fai knew how to choose weapons because the moment Aithne had held them she had felt as if she was meant to wield them.

"My favorite part," Aithne said with a grim grin. Cyren twirled his staff and eyed her slowly. "C'mon."

Cyren didn't move. He was more experienced than Aithne. He knew he had to draw her out, make her make the first move. And Cyren knew Aithne well enough that all he had to do was play on her anger, make her irritated.

"Naw. You come over here," he replied with his custom, gentle smile. He knew that his thoughtful look only enraged her more when she was so serious and involved in their sparring match. He was much too busy eying the way her hips swayed in her tight leather jeans.

Aithne did make the first move, as Cyren wanted her to. She swung her legs out and flipped her arms, twirling her sais with expertise and precision. Cyren spun his bow staff so one side blocked her sais. His other end came up to slap her in the face.

But she jerked her cheek away, feeling the whoosh as the wood missed her face by inches. Her leg shot out and she kicked Cyren hard enough in the legs. Gasping he buckled over in pain.

However, when Aithne approached, he lashed out and had her back on the floor before she even realized what was happening. Aithne blinked in confusion as Cyren settled himself on top of her, his thighs clasping her hips, and watched as he gave her his boyish grin.

"Huh… oh damn!" Aithne glared up at him as what had happened finally managed to hit her. She groaned in anger and gave one buck that Cyren's breath hitching for a moment. "You goddamn cheater!"

"Not cheating, tactics," Cyren answered.

"The winner," Zen-Fai declared as he approached the two teenagers. "Is Cyren. Better, Cyren, but not great. You could have done better."

"Yes, Father," Cyren agreed and helped Aithne to her feet, bowing his head at his father in the same motion. "I will try harder."

"What about me?" Aithne scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. "I mean, I was fighting too, you know."

"Miss Hagai, I am well aware of the fact that you were fighting." Zen-Fai stilled called her Miss Hagai even though Aithne had become a part of his family. It was his rigid military persona that had him calling her by her surname and it made Aithne reluctantly respect him. "And you are doing well, training well. I am pleased with your progress."

Aithne beamed at the compliment.

"Better than you are," she muttered to Cyren with her trademark gritty grin.

"Not by a long shot," Cyren shot back, also under his breath. Both of them kept their eyes on Zen-Fai. The old man would abrade them nonstop if they were caught exchanging their banter.

"Zen-Fai," Aithne said politely, lowing her head in a taunt fashion. Her first lessons with Zen-Fai had been the technique with which she addressed him. She was to, at all times, treat him with the highest respect. "May Cyren and I go outside for our break?"

"Very well. Report back here in an hour and we'll continue with the sparring matches," Zen-Fai answered. The hour he gave them was his time to set up for the upcoming tournament. Both Aithne and Cyren would be participating and he expected Cyren to take home the grand prize, as he always did.

"Yes sir!" the two replied and scampered off.

--&--

Aithne and Cyren went to the bazaar, buying frozen treats from one of the stands before wandering aimlessly the busy, crowded streets of the dusty Bazaar.

"So…" Cyren began tentatively, gauging Aithne's reaction carefully. "Did you hear about the new squadron of the Krimzon Guard?"

The girl game to a halt, the ice cream forgotten in her fingers. "Yes. I heard about it." That hardened, betrayed look came over her features. "They'll be going out to the Pumping Station tomorrow and fighting some real Metal Heads."

Cyren wished he had not said anything. It would have been better if he hadn't. He hated when Aithne looked so hurt and grief-stricken, abandoned by the world. "Aithne…" He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

She jerked away. "I know I'm being selfish. I know I'm being a bitch. But that was my dream. It burns me up inside to know someone else is living it."

"I never… I never thought you were like that," Cyren pointed out, his dark eyes boring into Aithne's. He wanted to draw her into his arms, wanted to hold her, but he was afraid. Always afraid. Afraid she would reject him, afraid she would be enraged, afraid of losing the friendship that had become so important to him.

"You're so just a good friend, Cyren," Aithne said and leaned onto him.

"Friend," Cyren repeated and managed to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"Yes, my best friend, Cyren." She smiled at him in a way that said friendship and nothing more. She smiled in a way that had Cyren returning the favor and had his organs withering on the inside.

"You—you're my best fri—friend," Cyren replied and bit down on all the emotions that choked his throat. _Aithne… this isn't fair, is it? Why can't I just tell you?_

Because he was a coward. And Cyren wasn't getting any braver.

--&--

"Five of you on the left, five on you're the right," the commanding Krimzon Guard ordered, flicking his wrists in time with his commands.

"Yes sir," they all answered in unison.

Ryu looked over at Maelia. He could barely see her face in the Krimzon Guard helmet that had been placed over her head, but he could make out her eyes. They were wide and brown and frightened. Her body was covered in those deep red armor plates. It hid the curves of her bodies. Ryu considered that a good thing since not one of them could stand to be distracted on the mission.

But then it didn't matter, Ryu considered. Since he already knew what was underneath that armor, probably better than any other boy. He didn't need to imagine since he had a first hand experience.

Maelia didn't say anything as she and the other two who were with Ryu's group moved left. Their field leader took his group and they moved right.

"This is just a reconnaissance mission," Ryu heard himself mumble in a low voice. Silence had become order of the day. No matter reason to chance it. "Nothing bad is going to happen." Where had the commanding voice come from? Why did he sound so much like his father?

But they did look frightened. Even Maelia was a little pale. Ryu hoped his face didn't reflect them as well. He was, after all, the leader of this small group and he couldn't afford to be frightened.

"What are we supposed to do, pray tell?" Maelia muttered, clicking the safety look of her gun off. Something was off, she knew instantly. Her womanly intuition was on red alert. Her whole body was trembling, her mind dizzy.

"Just scout around. Look for Metal Heads." Ryu suggested. "The Pumping Station has been cleared for years. Chances are we won't find anything."

"I'm not complaining," one of the other new cadets muttered. He was shivering too and was the most frightened. "I heard there was some nasty Metal Heads over this way. Stories, you know?"

"Stories are usually just that," Ryu pointed and Maelia nodded absently, her fingers clutching the black length of her gun.

For a long moment, they walked onward in silence. Maelia found it hard to breathe. Something was off, she could just tell. The Pumping Station was just too silent. The hum of moving machines had faded into the pressuring silence and all she could hear was her heart pounding against her ribs.

Finally Ryu turned around and addressed the other four, "Alright, let's just—"

Then there was a howl.

Maelia screamed as loud as her voice would allow. A giant Metal Head landed in front of them and she dropped to her rump, grappling for her gun. All her training left her as she barely rolled away from the claws that tried to slice her open.

"Maelia!" Ryu roared and shot at the Metal Head, the bullets pelting against the thick Metal Head hide. "Stay down!" His bullets weren't doing any real damage to the Metal Head but his attention had shifted from Maelia to Ryu.

She clamored to her feet, dragging her gun up with her. With his training driving him, Ryu was dodging every move the Metal Head was throwing at him. The other three cadets were backing him, keeping out of the Metal Head's reach and open firing on the giant beast.

But the bullets weren't fazing the Metal Head. Its hide was thick and impenetrable. There was a blind rage in the beady eyes of the Metal Head.

Ryu gasped in sharp pain as the claws of the Metal Head dented his Krimzon Guard armor. He gripped the cold metal, feeling it crush against his ribs. His oxygen supply was caught off abruptly, leaving him completely venerable.

Maelia reacted first. There was no battle cry, no justified rage. There was raw fear and terror as she lunged forward and threw herself at the beast. Planting her feet, she jumped onto the beast's back. As the Metal Head thrashed, trying to get his claws around Maelia's body, she bashed the butt of her rifle against the skull.

Then she went flying, her back hitting the ground hard. Her air left her lungs in a 'whoosh'. For a blind moment she couldn't move, her body paralyzed in the pain caused by her fall.

"Get up!" Ryu shouted in a distant place, his hand on her wrist and dragging her up. The ground jolted beneath as Ryu put Maelia shakily on her feet. There was raw fear in his eyes as she stared at him blindly, unsure and unaware of her surroundings.

"Ryu!" one of the Krimzon Guards shouted, the one who had been the most frightened earlier. Maelia couldn't remember his name in her foggy brain, but dread had her heart dropping to her feet. "Look out!"

The auburn-haired boy looked over his shoulder, cursed viciously, then wrapped his arms around Maelia and sent them both sprawling to the ground. The huge hand of the Metal Head swiped above them. Someone was screaming, and Maelia didn't realize it was her. Ryu was pulling her to her feet.

The cadet that had warned them, the one that had been frightened, rushed by them, firing his gun. The bullet hit the Metal Head in the skull, the golden head cracking. It howled in rage and his claws deceased.

There was no way for the cadet to escape. The claw came on his left as he ran to the right. It cut through his armor and sent blood over the sand. The Krimzon Guard cadet's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he dropped to his knees, vainly pressing against his chest wound.

Maelia made to go to him, to help, but Ryu dragged her back. She thrashed against him as he dragged her away. He loaded his gun and fired. It landed in the Metal Head's skull, crackling the thick layer of golden glass and sending the shards scattering. The Metal Head screamed, arching its back before collapsing in a heap on the sand.

"Cadet Praxis!" the Lieutenant shouted as he rushed over to them, his group of four following him. "Mar… that's the biggest Metal Head I've seen in the past seventeen years. What the hell happened?"

Ryu didn't answer. He looked down at Maelia, who had dropped to her knees and dragged off her helmet. She was now gripping her head, eyes downcast, and shaking with paroxysms. Her whole body was trembling and her eyes weren't leaving the dead Krimzon Guard. She was staring at the pool of blood staining the white sand, she was staring the still body, the armor torn open to reveal the ripped flesh.

_She looks,_ Ryu thought bitterly as a sour taste clogged his throat, _broken_.

"Sir," as he said it, Ryu turned to face his field commander. "We were attacked. Rynder went down… and… and…"

And he felt very, very sick.

--&--

"Sounds risky…"

"It is," Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi answered and smiled slowly. "Very risky. Many of your people will probably die if you agree to this. Haven City's military has not slipped with the era of peace."

"Then why would I agree to such a thing?" she snapped, thumping her clawed feet on the floor. "I have lost enough of my people to those Haven weaklings. I wish to have nothing to do with them, even if it means that I will not extract revenge for what they have done."

"Yes, but your people are persecuted by not only the Haven people but anyone you come against, even we of Sage-Harmona." Hirmoyarbeshi's smile was slow and sure, knowing he had her there. "I, however, do not think all Metal Heads are evil, especially now that your former leader is dead. I think we could… help each other."

"Go on," the Metal Head commented, resting on her hunches. Her dark, dark hide glowing almost purple against the light of her golden skull. Her claws inched to settle themselves in the cocky man's chest, but it was just not herself she was negotiating for. Her people had to come first.

"A mutual contract," Hirmoyarbeshi explained. "Help me and I will help you. With Haven gone, Sage-Harmona will be able to set out to conquer the Holy City. Once Sage-Harmona rules them both, the Metal Heads will be loved, worshipped even."

"No one will hunt us like dogs?" That was the most important thing, the Metal Head reasoned. "If we do this for you, you will see to it that no one hunts my people done for the sport of it?"

"Yes. That will be the basis of our agreement. Your freedom. Your people can finally come out of hiding." Hirmoyarbeshi smiled serenely, knowing he had her. This Metal Head was so predicable in her ways she was almost human. "The world under my rule would be kind to you and yours."

"And how to I know you will keep your word? It would be easy for you to betray me." The Metal Head crossed her arms even as her mind swirled with the possibilities Hirmoyarbeshi had painted for her. Freedom for her people, after they had so long yearned for it. Almost twenty long years.

"Why would I betray you?" Hirmoyarbeshi questioned, sounding as if he thought her to be simply silly. "Having Metal Heads as my allies would make me a force to be reckoned with. I see nothing but benefits from supporting you."

"All I would have to do is destroy Haven City?" she asked.

"Well, basically." Hirmoyarbeshi's handsomeness enhanced with his wolfish smile. "I have a few small details that you'll have to go along with, but you will basically worry about killing Haven City as you see fit."

"I see." She stroked her face in thought, nails drawing along the tough flesh of her chin. "And the girl?"

For the first time since they had entered in the bowls of Sage-Harmona's palace, Hirmoyarbeshi considered the girl in the corner of the room. Her long body and fluid limbs were leaning against the wall, her foot moving in a small, rhythmic motion. Her golden eyes were downcast, glowing like the Metal Head skull in the darkness. The white of her dress clashed with her tainted innocence.

"She will be doing the small details, obviously," he answered. "Do not let her appearance fool you. She is a trained killer and she will do as she is told. The girl knows nothing else but obedience."

"I believe you," the Metal Head muttered and truly did. She had heard about what Hirmoyarbeshi had been doing within Sage-Harmona's walls, and to his own people no less. It made her shudder to think that someone could stand to do such things to their own kind, to lower their level of humanity in such a way.

But then, she did not think highly of humans to begin with.

"Very well. Tomorrow I will come and your girl shall journey with us to Haven City. It will be decimated by nightfall." The Metal Head frowned. "We are fortunate the Mar boy is dead."

"Indeed," Hirmoyarbeshi agreed and waved her off. "Take the back away out. No one will see you." The girl stood from her spot against the wall and she followed him up the darkened stairwell into the hustle and bustle of the palace.

Tiny maids curtsied at them as they walked by, sending wary glances at them as they passed. Their deadly Lord General and his silent, young assassin. The pair was not to be tampered with as the girl would kill without blinking. She had single handedly squashed any rebellions that might have occurred during the past year.

"If Kiff Fire fails in this mission, kill her and any Metal Head near you. All that matters is that I have the Mar woman." Hirmoyarbeshi looked at the young woman at his side, her silky hair black enough to have a blue hue.

Golden golem eyes rose to stare blankly into his. "Yes, Master. It shall be as you wish. You shall have the body you need for your perfect Experiment." She turned her eyes to the road they walked and fell silent again. She was not much for talking, the girl, and her silence often caused discomfort for many.

Not Hirmoyarbeshi. He had created her after all and he admired her body as a man would something he built with his bare hands. "My lovely pet. You mustn't be jealous. You will always be my favourite." He caught her wrists and slowed her down, turning her into his arms.

The golden eyes gave off no jealousness, nor did it give off any emotion. The girl was a stoic creature, her emotions buried so deep within her that she doubted she even had them.

"I understand," she answered and Hirmoyarbeshi smiled slowly.

"My lovely pet," he told her and leaned in to kiss her. Her mouth was frigid beneath his own, but he didn't mind. Nor did he notice the way her body went stiff against his.

She was shamed on so many levels. Months ago the Master's touch had started to make her skin crawl. It was disgracing. The Master was the Master. He touch was only to bring her a sense of duty, instead she wanted to scream and run away. For someone who doubted their own emotions, it was a frightening thing.

Hirmoyarbeshi nibble and licked and kissed and she stood frozen in his grasp, unwilling and unable to move away. She watched him walk through emotionless eyes. _He is the Master._ The voice inside her head reminded her, the voice that made sure she obeyed everything Hirmoyarbeshi ordered.

Very slowly—she did most things slowly unless she killing, then she was fast and deadly—she turned. She was aware of people staring at her. Knowing that made her feeling nothing. Or maybe she did feel something knowing they stared and judged, but the emotion was buried too deep inside her for her heart to even recognize it.

She came to a pause when a broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped man stood in front of her path. Her arms laid torpid at her side as she raised her dark head to look at him. Her golden eyes were dispassionate, neither cold nor hot. Just… her eyes were just _there_. Without a word she waited for him to move.

Move he did, but his face was clenched in anger. "Bitch," he hissed. "Ice bitch." Perhaps he was correct. Though she could not see how she was a 'bitch' considering it meant the females of the canine species.

The words barely reached her ears and they caused no reaction in her. She started to move again, like a robot coming back to life. She had a mission. The Master willed her to journey to Haven City. She was the extension of the Master's will and she would do what he asked without question. His obedient bird.

She had packing to do.

--&--

"A leave of absence?" Ashlin inquiring as she folded her hands over the paper that said it in ink. "Are you sure?"

Maelia's shoulder hitched in defense. It felt like she was taking the coward's way out. But she _had_ to. She couldn't stand to be a Krimzon Guard a moment longer. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry to come with you to this problem, but Commander Torn is currently out. And I need to… to… resign now."

"I understand you were involved in the Metal Head incident a few days ago, yes?" Ashlin watched as the girl's face blanched at the memory. "I understand a young Tritan Rynder was killed in action during the incident."

"He was. He was trying to protect me and Ryu." As Ashlin nodded Maelia wondered how the woman could be so calm about the danger her son had been in.

"It must have been hard, losing someone that close to you and that earlier in your Krimzon Guard career." Maelia nodded, her head lowering in shame. Ashlin felt her heart move in sympathy for the girl. "Maelia…"

"I just… I just didn't know what to _do_," Maelia admitted, her voice hitching and her eyes filming over. "I was the second best in my class and I saw that Metal Head I couldn't remember a thing. I just panicked."

"The first time I went up against a Metal Head was when… I was with my father." Ashlin frowned. Thinking of her father gave her an odd mixture of feelings, sadness and anger and betrayal and love. "I didn't have time to be afraid because my father would have killed me for being frightened."

"That's… that's horrible," Maelia muttered and keep her head lowered. She had heard of Baron Praxis. Of course, who hadn't? And she had known he was cruel, blinded by ambition and greed… but…

"It was, in a way. But knowing that made me strong in a way I don't want anyone else to be. It was hard, but that era, when I was young, was meant for only the strong." Ashlin leaned across her desk and placed a hand on Maelia's shoulder.

"I'm not good at it," Maelia gushed. Tears fell across her cheeks openly as she hunched against sobs. "I'm not good at anything. Why would I think I was good at fighting? I thought if I was good at this than… than… Daddy would love me! But I'm not and he's never, ever gonna love me!"

Ashlin leaned back and sighed, rubbing her eyes. God, she could not mixed up in this. No matter how much her heart went out to the girl, this was Daxter's life and his problem. She would be breaching his territory if she attempted to heal the girl.

"Maelia, would it make a difference if I told you that… it… gets easy and the shock of death fades?" she questioned softly, attempting to offer emotional support without taking on the role of mother when she didn't have the right to.

"N—no," Maelia answered, rubbing at her tearing eyes. "No, ma'am, it wouldn't. And I… I think that's the problem." She closed her eyes softly and placed a hand over her chest. "I don't want it to ever be… commonplace. I want every death I see to be special, to dig at me. To hurt me. It should always be that."

"I cannot change your mind… and I think I agree with you." Ashlin offered the broken girl a small smile. "I'll let your field leader know you're no longer a part of the Krimzon Guard."

"Thank, ma'am," Maelia said softly and stood, making her way towards the door. Her movements were slow, sluggish. _Another thing you're not good at, Maelia. What's left for you?_

"Goodbye, Maelia," Ashlin said as the blonde left her room. Maelia didn't answer. Involved with her thoughts she didn't hear the older redhead. "Good luck."

Goodbye had been the right thing to say, as Ashlin would see.

--&--

_Maelia is no longer in the Krimzon Guard…_ Ryu had just found that out a few days ago. He gritted his teeth. _She didn't even tell me!_

What was he going to do now? Maelia had been the only reason he was in the Krimzon Guard. Now that she wasn't, he wanted out. How was he supposed to tell Torn that? Did Ryu want to tell Torn? For the first time, his father respected him.

But he didn't want to be Krimzon Guard anymore. Ryu had compromised who he was for Maelia. And he was tired of hiding himself so he could protect the girl, especially when it was obvious that was the last thing she wanted.

Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. Slowly, he walked into his father's office, pushing at the door. Torn was there, hunched over his paperwork. He didn't glance up at Ryu when the boy entered.

"What is it?" he snapped and Ryu reasoned with himself he probably didn't know he was Ryu. He was supposed to be out in the field again with the lieutenant. But Ryu had requested for personal leave and had got it.

"Father," Ryu said, his voice sounding slow and frightened.

"Hm? Ryu?" Torn did glance up and surprise registered in his eyes. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at Dead Town now?"

"I took personal leave." The disappointment in Torn's eyes almost had Ryu backing down. _No. No, I have to do this._ "I need to talk to you about something."

"Take a seat," Torn commented and watched as his son slowly took the seat opposite from him. "What is it, Ryu?"

"I do not…" Ryu paused and considered how he should tackle explaining to his father. "You were right, Father. The only reason I joined the Krimzon Guard was to protect Maelia because she needs looking after and… and she's not in it anymore and so I…" Everything had been coming out in a rush until he got to the moment of truth. "And I… I want to resign from the Krimzon Guard as well."

Torn was silent. The look he gave Ryu had him squirming. So much disappointment. So much anger. Finally the man spoke, "This… this is unacceptable, Ryu."

"Father—"

"No!" Torn thundered and slammed his fists against the desk, standing up sharply. "I will not have it. Ryu, I finally thought you were seeing things straight. You cannot back out of this now not when you're finally where you belong."

"I'm not you!" Ryu shouted just as loudly as Torn, forcing the man to go quiet. "I'm not you and I can never be you! I hate violence and I hate guns and I hate the Krimzon Guard. I will not be part of it!"

"Yes you will!" Torn glared at his son, teasing the idea of throttling him.

"If you won't let me quit than I'll get Mother to let me!" Ryu shouted, knowing that Ashlin would help him there. But he hadn't wanted to go crying to his mother. He hadn't wanted to face his father like a man, because he was a man. He was twenty years old and he wanted to think that his father would respect his decisions.

Now he realized that his father would never see him as a man.

"Fine then. You're off the squad," Torn hissed. His fingers clenched and unclenched as he sized up his flesh and blood. "Get out of my sight. You disappoint me on so many levels, Ryu. So many…"

"I know, Father." Ryu turned to the door, hand gripping the woodwork tight. As he went to exit he glanced at his father. "You know, Father… my entire life all I wanted was you to respect me. I was willing to do anything to earn it… once. But I won't pretend I'm not who I am so you can pretend you have a son you admire."

Torn sat down slowly, refusing to look at his son. There was this tightness in his chest, this sudden clench that made it hard to breath. His stubbornness, pride, wouldn't let him look at his son and say he'd always respected him, even now. Ryu was brave enough to admit he could never be what his father wanted him to be but Torn wasn't.

"I—I'll see you around, Father," Ryu said, looking away. He made his way through the door, away from Torn. "Maybe one day… maybe one day you'll forgive me, respect me even. I hope."

Those were the last words he said to his father.

--&--

Kiff Fire considered the girl as she walked calmly by the Metal Head's side. Most people were intimated by Kiff. She had both the blood of a Juice Goon and a Hose-Head and it made her big and bulky and deadly, coupled with dark skin and long, yellow claws meant for tearing flesh apart.

"What is your name?" she demanded of the girl. Something about the dark-haired child—the girl could be no more than sixteen years old—irked Kiff the wrong way.

"I have no name," the girl answered and sent the Metal Head a sidelong glance. "A name is not useful to my Master."

"That man did not name you?" Kiff snorted at the ugliness of it. Hirmoyarbeshi had come off as a man ruled by greed and passion, but she hadn't thought he would ignore the girl always by his side, more loyal to him than anyone else. "I believe humans value names. How could he not name you?"

The girl's shoulders hitched, but only an inch or so. It was only Kiff's honed Metal Head senses that allowed her to notice. "Names are not necessary, so long as I do the Master's will." The girl's voice was so carefully monotone that Kiff could not detect any emotion in the girl.

"I have heard of what Hirmoyarbeshi did to the desert people he locked in Sage-Harmona's palace, but I never imagined he created things like you." It wasn't meant to be harsh. It wasn't meant to be taken as an insult. It simply was.

"I believed that Metal Heads could not talk," the girl went on as if Kiff hadn't spoken. Her eyes were golden and remote as she looked straight ahead.

Kiff recognized the subtle hint for her to shut up. She ignored it and continued speaking. "Kor was a cruel and unjust ruler. Many Metal Heads were suppressed by his evil. And what of you, young child? Are you suppressed?"

"Haven City draws near," the girl said coolly and she closed off all conversation. "I will sneak in and open the gates for you. You will go in and destroy Haven City. I shall collect the Mar woman."

The girl was right. Kiff could see the high walls of Haven City. Memories flashed in her mind. Blood and death, gun smoke and Metal Head screams. "I hate this city." A predatory smile crossed her face. "I shall enjoy destroying it."

"Kiff," a lean Metal Head strode up to them. He was a Sniper Skull, built for speed and the capability to shoot his gun. "We're nearing."

"I know, Epsi," Kiff answered and glanced at the stoic girl. "_She_ will sneak us in and than we will have our revenge on that damned city." The very mention of it had her Metal Head army bursting with vigor.

"About time," Epsi muttered and moved to his troops, his band of snipers. "Hope this _human_ knows what she's doing. I don't like trusting her."

Kiff looked over at the girl. "She's not human. Not anymore." Epsi gave her a surprised look. "And I _don't_ trust her."

It was true.

--&--

"I know I'm asking a lot of you, Nyx, but we need you." Sala looked tired and worn and so very old. There were tiny lines around her eyes and mouth and Nyx was surprised Sala hadn't gotten any silver hair.

"You're not asking much of me, Sala. I am the top soldier in the Holy City. You should expect it of me." Nyx knew her voice was sure and confident and hid the uneasiness within her stomach.

"We cannot ignore the threat Sage-Harmona appears to us. Now that we are certain the Yoshimoro line is dead and Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi is in control we need to be informed of its going-ons." Sala stood and walked to the bay windows behind her.

"What you need is a group of spies working from the inside." Nyx joined Sala at the window and together they watched the soldier train down belong in the green grass of the training fields. "I'm the best for the job."

"You're the only one I trust," Sala admitted slowly. She turned to look at Nyx with regret heavy in her eyes. "The only I can think can do this and not get killed."

"You can trust me. You have to trust me." Nyx put a hand on the woman's shoulder. The queen. The last of the queens now that Ginyrina was dead. "I will not fail you, Sala." She turned, dreading what would come next.

"I never thought you would," Sala muttered but knew the fair haired woman couldn't hear her.

_How will I tell Nik?_ Nyx wondered, biting her lip as she made her way down to the nursery of the palace. She paused at the door, regained herself, and pushed them open. White light from the sun momentarily blinded her.

Six-year-old Merasaki, her fiery hair bright under the sun streaked after a dark-haired, moody Sedet who was too tall and gangly in his nine-year-old body. "Play with me, play with me, Sedet!" the tiny girl shrieked.

"Do I have to?" Sedet muttered with a roll of his eyes, sending Nik a pleading look. The man with Merasaki's matching hair color smiled in answer.

"When you're older you're gonna wish you had girls chasing you around, kid." Sedet's face twisted at the thought of any girl being cool, but took the doll Merasaki swung in his face and sat down. The redhead girl bounced joyfully and joined him on the floor.

"Nyx, my love, we're going to have to lock Merasaki away in an ivory tower. She's already becoming a heart breaker." He grinned and kissed her full on the mouth. When he broke away from her he noticed the dark look in her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Sala has asked me to go to Sage-Harmona." Nyx lowered her head and let Nik make his own assumptions, and let him figure it out on his own.

"To Sage-Harmona…" Nik's smoky eyes darkened as well. "There's only one reason you'd be going to Sage-Harmona and… and that's… _no_." Nik's voice got that dangerous tone to it and Nyx flinched. "_No_, Nyx."

"I already agreed to go. I have to go, Nik. For Sala and the Holy City. It's for—"

"What about Sage-Harmona?" he demanded and Nyx was silenced. "Are you just going to throw away your loyalties to Sage-Harmona, forget you were ever born there?"

"It's Sage-Harmona that's causing the problems, Nik, and you know that. Are you just going to ignore that fact?" Nyx demanding, finding her voice in her need to defend herself.

"No. No, I'm not saying that what they're doing isn't wrong. If they start a war, fight them. Don't go courting trouble." Nik took her shoulders and gave her a small shake. "That's your home, Nyx. Whether you like it or not. You can't just ignore that."

"The Holy City is my home. It's more so than Sage-Harmona," Nyx shot back and jerked herself from his gasp. "If we can stop the war before it starts than I will."

"And what about your family?" Nik retorted, looking disgusted with the whole situation. "Did you forget about that? You have a family here. Even if you feel nothing for Sage-Harmona than think about what you're risking. Do you want Merasaki to grow up without a mother?"

"Don't. Don't turn this around on me. I am doing this to protect Merasaki and you, even if you don't want to admit it. This is what I must do." Nyx reached out and touched his cheek. "Nik…"

He jerked his head away, as if her touch burned and Nyx felt her anger rise. "This is pissing me off, Nyx. And I can't stand to be touched by you right now. I can't stop you, but I won't like it."

"Mommy!" Merasaki screeched and rushed over to them, pillowing into Nyx's arms. "Mommy! Mommy, love you."

"Love you too, my dearest," Nyx muttered and kissed Merasaki's fiery top. She wanted to cuddle her daughter, wanted to rock her like she had when Merasaki had been a baby. She didn't want to leave her child.

Nik couldn't stand to watch them, knowing Merasaki's fragile heart would be broken when her mother left without a word. He reached out and took Merasaki from Nyx's arms. "Come on, darling. Mommy's going away for a while."

"Where?' Merasaki asked as her blue eyes went wide in confusion. "Where is Mommy going, Daddy?"

Nyx shuddered as her husband and daughter walked away from her. She felt as if she had just been kicked out of the protective world she and Nik had made for Merasaki. And it was bitter and horrible.

She turned from them and strode away, her heart breaking.

--&--

"Aithne Hagai Mar!"

"My name is not Mar…" Aithne turned, breaking her sparring match with Cyren, and her eyes went wide. "Mom?" Keira Hagai Mar stood there, her face flushed with rage and her eyes burning.

Indeed it was Keira Hagai Mar, short aquamarine hair tied into a small ponytail at the back of her head, face flushed with anger, hands on hips, and eyes glittering dangerously. She stood at the threshold of the door, her whole wiry body trembling with rage as she took in the scene before her.

"What…" she began slowly, very slowly, "is this, Aithne?" She approached them, Cyren and Aithne and Zen-Fai. Cyren and Aithne were in the center of the room, staring worriedly at Keira as she approached, while Zen-Fai leaned casually against the wall, crossing his arms and watching the upcoming scene with a regarding eye.

"Mom—" Aithne began but it was too late. Keira's rage burst and there was no stopping it until it had fizzled out.

"I told you no! No fighting!" Her fingers fisted and shook visibly from her anger. "This is where you were going every morning? This is why I didn't see you until dinner? You were lying to me this whole time?"

"You said no Krimzon Guard, no Wastelanders! This isn't either of those. This is just me training with my best friend! Everyone else I know is in the Krimzon Guard, why can't you let me have this?" Aithne demanded as her fingers locked around Cyren's upper arm for balance.

"What is the difference, Aithne? What is it? You're still fighting, you could still get hurt." Keira's eyes filmed over with tears. Aithne's face, locked in rage and hurt and betrayal, looked so much like Jak. How could she have missed it? Aithne had grown up just like Jak.

_Just like Jak._

"We're going home now," Keira said softly. She was suddenly afraid, deathly afraid. Her daughter was all grown up and like her father and she didn't know how to handle it. "We'll talk about your punishment when we get home."

"Why?" Aithne wasn't ready to fall in line. She never was, she never would be. _Just like Jak._ "I haven't done anything wrong. Damnit, Mom, I _am_ seventeen years old! There is nothing wrong with this. I should be allowed!"

"I. Am. Your. Mother," Keira hissed out, her eyes burning jade.

Always the peacemaker, and because he hated to see two people who loved each other fight, Cyren stepped protectively in front of Aithne. "Look, Mrs. Mar, I'm sorry about this. It's really my—"

"Cyren. I like you," Keira told him through gritted teeth, her eyes locked with Aithne's. "So don't make me take my anger out on you. Don't say something you might regret."

"You can't talk to him like that." Aithne reached out and locked her fingers around Cyren's wrist, viselike. "Let's go." She started to drag him toward the door.

"Do not walk out of this door, young lady!" Keira thundered and had Aithne pausing. "I forbid it, Aithne."

"So afraid I'll abandon you, too, Mother?" Aithne asked and had her mother paler. She wheeled around, her face livid. "I'm not Jak! And I'm never going to be Jak! I'm not going to abandon you and leave you broken. Why do you always think that I'm so much like him?"

_Because you are_, Keira thought. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."

"I do understand." Tears fell openly down Aithne's cheeks as she continued to glare at her mother. "I understand that you seem to think that I'm Jak Mar when I'm not. Will you ever see me, Mom? Or will I always be him?"

"Aithne…"

"I hate him. Nothing's going to change that." Aithne's face could have been soft, but her eyes were too sharp. "After what he did, I would think the same would be true for you. But that was never the case, was it? You've always loved him and I've always fallen in second place." Keira turned and made her way to her daughter, arms opened. Aithne jerked away. "Don't. I can't stand you." She turned and ran, Cyren dogging her heels, without glancing back at a shaking Keira.

Trembling, near tears again, Keira turned to look at Zen-Fai as the aging man leaned silently against the wall. Funny, there was no anger toward him in her. She was just tired now. "Please. I will ask you to stop training my daughter."

"And, Lady Keira, I will tell you no." Zen-Fai sighed when her eyes went wide. He pushed himself off the wall and strode over to her.

"Why?"

"Your daughter is angry, Lady Keira. Surely you can see that. She has been angry for a long, long time." When Keira nodded mutely, Zen-Fai pressed on, "That anger can release itself in unhealthy ways. I find, often, that these sparring sessions relieves one of their anger for a time."

_So tired…. so tired…_ Keira rubbed her temples. She thought perhaps she would collapse from exhaustion right then and there. _Jak, am I raising our daughter right or have I been making mistakes for these past seventeen years?_ "Do you think letting her fight with you is right?"

"I cannot say. That decision is to the parent of the child." Zen-Fai looked away. "I have no say in these matters."

"What about your son? Cyren? You allowed him to fight to control his rage?" It seemed odd to Keira that a boy, well-mannered, quiet and gentle, would have a rage problem. She thought he seemed stable.

"Cyren needs to know how to fight," Zen-Fai said mysteriously.

"Sometimes I don't even know who she is," Keira admitted slowly. "She's so much like Jak. The angry, hell-bent on revenge Jak. And I know if she knew that she'd hate herself. My beautiful girl, so cracked."

"Return home, Lady Keira." Zen-Fai's eyes went distant and dark as he stared out his window. Keira blinked and looked over at him. If the old man had been cat, Keira thought, his hackles would be up, way up.

"What?"

"Return to your home." Zen-Fai took her arm and led her to the door. "Please, do as I say. No questions. You are tired, sleep and rest."

Quirking an eyebrow, Keira allowed herself to be hassled out the door. She looked back at the old man and felt her spine stiffen. Something was up, she knew it. Zen-Fai's eyes were remote and detached. They were alert and deadly.

When she was gone, Zen-Fai moved to the back of the room. He opened the closet and grabbed a long, jagged sword that was meant to slice his enemies. Tentatively, he touched the tip. It had been a long time since he had used it, Cyren was not even aware of its presence. If he had been, it would brought up questions.

It was a rare, Sage-Harmona military sword.

He kept it in a sheath at his hip and walked over to rest against the door frame. His eyes scanned the night sky. He knew what he had seen. Zen-Fai had been trained for this very reason.

"Come then," he murmured.

--&--

"Aithne! Aithne, stop!" Cyren finally managed to get a firm hold on her arms. He gripped her and turned her around. Why was it he always ended up chasing this girl?

The girl's blonde head was lowered, ashamed. Tears spilled openly down her cheeks. "I—I hate that she looks at me and see—sees Jak. I hate tha—that I have to live in hi—his shadow."

"I know, I know." He brought her into his arms, stroking the contours of her face. Her hair was silky and fine beneath his finger. He wanted to inhale its sent but was afraid to make such an intimate gesture.

Sniffling, she allowed Cyren to lead her to walkway overlooking to the port water. They sat down, their legs swinging above the water and were silent. Aithne stared into the distance, while Cyren drew absent circles on the back of her hand.

"I hate yelling at her, after what's she gone through, but I hate being treated like _him_ more." Aithne's face clenched in rage as she thought about it. _Everywhere I go people say I look like Jak. Why is that? I can't. I won't be him._

"It's alright. I don't think you're like Jak. I think you're Aithne Hagai and my best friend." He placed his arm around her shoulder and she scooted closer tilting her head on an angle. Her lips were close for him to lean in close and taste her. He bit on his lip and resisted the urge to groan.

_So close, Aithne. So close. If only you knew… what would you do if you knew? Scream? Hate me? Hit me?_

"Cyren," Aithne said and leaned her head on his shoulder, clutching at his shirt fabric. "Thank you, for always being there for me. You're my best friend. You make me stronger when I just want to be weak."

"Best friend…" Cyren whispered and then found himself saying softly, "Aithne…" She turned her head and looked up at him, her lips a hair inch.

Finally, after years and years of wanting to, he closed the distance. Aithne's eyes widened moments before the contact, just barely realizing what was going to happen. Then, when the contact was made, her eyes slid closed and she leaned into him.

So this was what it felt like to kiss Aithne Hagai? It was better than anything he had ever imagined. He didn't know if she had been kissed before, but the way their lips slanted against one another made him think they were born to kiss each other. She tasted like tart and sweet and it lodged a deep, male groan in his throat.

His hands rose up to cup her cheek, hunching his shoulders over so he could lean his neck in without leaning his body. Aithne's head was tilted, making a small gap between their necks. Her hands were resting on his arms for balance and for leverage. Cyren felt her sigh softly against his mouth.

Their lips hovered apart, breathing hot air, fanning each other. Each wondered if they should take the dive for another kiss. Their bodies were inches apart, clothes almost fused with the heat of passion.

"Aithne…" Cyren sighed, touching her wet and swollen lip with his thumb. He kissed them again, gently. "I love you…"

He said it with so much sincerity, so much certainty that Aithne knew he thought it was true. Her lips trembled as new emotions rose up in her throat. Emotions she had never felt before, for Cyren at least. They were frightening and amazingly new. Her fingers were gripping his shirt and she felt as if she would melt into a boneless pool at his feet.

_I love you_. Aithne shuddered at the thought. These emotions, she had never thought about them before. Oh, she knew that Cyren was an attractive young man, but every time her mind had veered down that path she had snapped the door closed. _Friends don't think that way about friends_, she had told herself.

But it was obvious that Cyren hadn't followed that rule.

"Cyren, I—I… I…" Love? What did Aithne know about love? Actually, she knew a lot about love. It was love that had her mother crying herself to sleep every night. Love that made the divisions in her family. _Love brings you nothing but pain,_ she thought. "I—I…" But then why was her heart thumping so hard as she looked into Cyren's naked, black eyes?

_Black…_ no, they were purple. This close she could tell. A dark, dark shade of purple. Why had she never noticed before?

"Aithne—" Cyren began.

But he was cut off. Suddenly there was a ripping explosion. It rocked beneath Aithne and Cyren and had her tumbling into his arms. Screams filled the air, followed shortly by Metal Head howls.

Aithne and Cyren jumped to their feet as fire burst around them. People scrambled passed them, despite to escape the flames. Cyren grabbed Aithne by the waist as a Metal Head roared passed them, claws slashing at people. It caught a poor woman in the back and sent her flying into the sea, long dead before she hit the water.

_Metal Heads…!_ Cyren thought in horror. He had never seen them before, had only seen pictures, and they were horrid creatures with razor sharp claws and foaming teeth. They could tear humans limb from limb. And, from the wild fire in their eyes, they wanted to.

He pulled Aithne to her feet and glanced over at his home. Metal Heads sprawled all over the walkways. Cyren didn't realize how far he had run from Zen-Fai, but they were on the opposite side of the port.

_Father…_ He grabbed her wrists and shouted over the screams and howls, "C'mon! We gotta get to Father." There was sheer panic him. _Please let him be okay._ It never penetrated his foggy brain that Zen-Fai could handle himself.

Aithne pulled herself free and stared at the chaos around him. Her eyes went wide in her face. "My God…" she whispered and tugged herself free. "My God… Cyren, look. Look! Haven City it's, it's… _on fire_!"

It was. Haven City was burning.

* * *

**AN:** told you, didn't I? Last chapter of part two ends with a bang. A BANG! Not only a bang, but a hint of romance, a look at a new character, and another mystery. You might have noticed but Zen-Fai's hiding something… but what?

**Part Three:** amply named, Sins of the Father, part three brings the inevitable reunion between Jak and his bitter, enraged daughter. How will Aithne handle knowing her father's _alive_? Not only that, major mysterious will be revealed, including the Girl who worked side-by-side the Metal Head Kiff Fire, Hirmoyarbeshi's aim, Cyren and Zen-Fai's past, and the true face of evil. Not only that, but we'll meet some new faces, including two major characters who will be abound all throughout the last two parts of Jak IV! Celebrate for we are halfway done!

**Reviews**

**Hellmouth2:** I was very cautious at the decision to pull Jak away from the major part… I was very weary and considered rewriting the whole thing for the sake of bringing Jak back into Part Two… but then I realized, Jak has a much more profound affect on the entire plot by _not_ being there. If Jak had been around, would Aithne be bitter, would there be a mystery, would everyone else are lives falling apart without Jak's absence? Believe it or not, Jak is more important to this story when he's not around.

**Specter Von Baron:** when I said humans, meant people with human emotion in general. Of course, anything that has the ability to think and act free of animal instincts because a driving force for angst. It's just usually humans. By the way… how did you like Kiff Fire? I hope you enjoyed her character thus far XD

**Xazz:** yes, lots of my major couples (or lack thereof) don't seem to realize it. Maelia and Ryu keep themselves oblivious because of their stubborn nature, Aithne is put off to the whole theory of love, and Cyren is afraid of destroying the friendship. That's how I envision—from personal experience—younger people would handle such strong emotions. Now, only the other side of the spectrum, Nik and Nyx were both aware of their sizzling attraction, but Nyx refused to act on it from her fear of being hurt again. This is how I imagine adults handle it, realizing it and accepting it, then reacting to it.

**jaklover123:** be warned, my chapters just get longer and longer. Normally, I don't make a chapter this longer, I try to keep them fifteen through twenty pages long. But if I did that for Jak IV, do you realize how long this thing would be?

**Crazy Ottsel:** I know I'm being a hypocrite—I complain when an author takes a while to update too—but this thing is HELL to write. Bear with me on the slow updates. A bunch of breaks are coming up soon, maybe then, hmm?

**Teh Kitsune:** Let me clear the air. Ryu is digging on Maelia. Hurt, sexual digging. Aithne's more like his skinny kid sister he's always beating boys up over. Aithne, he wants to lock away in a room. Maelia he wants to lock himself in a room with. Of course… he'll never admit that… You're awfully close to the Daxter situation. Awfully. XD As for Torn… it's basically how I perceive his personality. I mean… can you imagine tough, hard-ass Torn with a son in politics? You know, politics? Derived from the word 'poly' meaning 'many' and 'ticks' meaning 'blood, sucking parasite'.

**GundamWingFanatic90:** Don't worry about the scanner. Just get it to me when you can. As for the ages… next chapter I'll post a list of every character and there age. Ryu's in the chapter, but I'll post his again just for a minor recap of the last act, since it was kinda long and complex.

**Chatterbox101:** I love the baby, too! Little Merasaki is modeled after this toddler I used to look after. She as adorable! XD I would beg to baby-sit her. Unfortunately, there won't be a lot of Merasaki action, since she's going to stay really young throughout most of the story. Originally, both she and Sedet were supposed to have bigger roles, but I cut there ages down and decided to just have them those innocents touched by the war.

**Toasy Tiger:** yes, most people are looking forward to the meeting bewteen Aithne and Jak. After all, Jak's been gone for all her life and Aithne has sworn ever lasting hate on the man. That's gotta be rough, espeically for Jak who struggled all those years to give everyone, including himself, a bright future.


	12. Part Three:: On the Way Down

_Disclaimer:_ I like to tell myself I own _Jak_… but then, I am crazy

**AN:** ooooh! Look! Update! Yay-ness to the eXreme! And even better, Part Three is starting. Which means that we're halfway done the story! And even more eXtreme is the fact today is March 13th, which means that in a little more than two weeks I'm getting Kingdom Hearts II! Finally! After four years of waiting I'm finally going to get Kingdom Hearts II!

**Warnings:** character death… and it ain't only an OC death

Special thanks to Specter Von Baron who is the one is has agreed to put up with my poor grammar and be my beta!

* * *

**  
/Part Three: Sins of the Father/**

**Act XII: On the Way Down **

Fifteen minutes before the fires, Maelia was wiping down tables at the Naughty Ottsel.

Tess had taken her back as a waitress when she had returned home after her dispatch from the Krimzon Guard. So Maelia had changed back into her camouflage shorts, sneakers, crisscross double tank tops, and the zipper-up _Naughty Ottsel_ hoodie. It wasn't a glorified job, but it was one she knew how to do without worry.

She glanced at her face in her polished table and touched the thick coils of her hair. The face that stared back up at her was sorrowful, sad, and cold.

When she had told her family she had retired from the Krimzon Guard, she had gotten understanding. Or, from her mother at least. Tess had cuddled and cooed her daughter while Daxter had simply shrugged and went back to reading his newspaper.

Both her parents were out. Tess was over at the palace, having a chat with Ashlin. And her father was haggling with Bazaar merchants and planning his trip to the Holy City. Daxter had said, a bit happily, that it would be good to go back after almost twenty years of not seeing Gareth, Sala, and Nyx—whoever they were—and he would just have to make sure he avoided Crea—whoever she was.

So Maelia had been left to look after the Naughty Ottsel. Not that the restaurant needed looking after. It was early morning and _no one_ needed a drink that early. The people that did were not allowed in the bar.

The door to the Naughty Ottsel slid open and she looked up, putting on her best 'how may I serve you?' smile.

She blinked. "Err… hello?"

The girl was younger than her by a year or so, though she was much taller. Long, jet black hair flowed to her waist in a straight, board-like line, no hint of wave or body. It was so dark that Maelia almost saw a purple hue to it. It looked like it was silk and not real hair. Maelia couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. She would _kill_ for hair like that.

"I am looking for the Race Stadium. Please direct me," the girl said and Maelia almost jumped at her tone. So remote and distant. So _monotone_.

"Ah…" Maelia gave her the once over. The young girl didn't look like a racer, though her body was lean and sylphlike enough to be a racer's body. She was just too pale, just shades darker than snow, and there were no lines in her face, smooth like sanded stone. She had high cheek bones and an interesting mouth, with a full bottom lip and a thinner upper lip. Her face was gentle, with soft angles that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else but gave her a timeless beauty.

And the outfit she was wearing did not fit that of a racer's. She wore a red shirt that was tight around her small, thin chest and left her stomach and torso bare. Over the shirt was a thick, leather breastplate, heightening what little breasts she did have. The breastplate was tied in the back by thick leather straps, which also held another plate to her shoulder while other shoulder was bar. She wore simple, tight pants that looked like they had seen better days, the light green tone of them offset by brown patches that had been sown over holes. A red sash covered her tiny, boyish hips, its wispy material running down her mile-long legs.

The outfit she wore fit that of a racer's, tight to fit the whip of speed. She wore a light-green glove on her right arm that almost resembled skin and reached the very top of her shoulder armor. On her other armor she wore a fingerless glove that seemed to be made of out of bandages, starting at her elbow and covering everything else down. Everything this young girl wore Maelia had seen on other racers.

But she wore too much body armor. There were greaves on calves and Maelia caught the hint of daggers behind them. And her breastplate was likely made for protect rather than statement. And who wore shoulder armor anyway?

"I am… lost…" the girl said slowly, watching Maelia from the weirdest eyes she had ever seen. _Golden eyes_. Liquid gold. A silver cross hung tight from her neck in a choker-like fashion, catching and reflecting the light.

"Oh… right… uh, just take this road until you come to the entrance way on the far left." Maelia motioned to her left to emphasize her point. "Then just keep on it until you get to this section with _a lot_ of housing. Then just stay on the biggest road you can find and take it until you come to an archway. Follow that until you see the big racing dome. Can't miss it."

"Thank you." With stiff, robotic movements the girl turned to exit the Naughty Ottsel. She paused at the door and glanced at Maelia over her shoulder. "You should not remain here," she said before she disappeared out the door.

"Weird…" Maelia muttered as she continued to stare at the spot where the girl had been standing. "Very weird… but who makes her clothes? Very retro."

Ryu walked in just as the girl walked out. His neck was turned as he watched her walk away, barely noting the snug way her hips looked in her pants. "Who was that? I've never seen her before."

"Dunno. She was looking for the Race Stadium," Maelia answered even as her back went stiff. She turned away from him, but then turned back and blinked. "What are you doing here? Doesn't the team have a mission in Dead Town?"

"I quit." Ryu watched as her eyes went wide. "Did ya think I wanted to be a Krimzon Guard? You just needed looking after."

"No. I. Didn't," Maelia hissed and glared at him. "I'm not a child, Ryutaro! Haven't we established that already?"

"Yeah," Ryu growled low under his breath, looking at her through narrowed eyes. His mind was swirling with the memories of the night when he had finally been able to kiss her. Damned if he didn't want to do it again.

"Look—" she began but Ryu held up a hand to cut her off. "What is it?"

"Something…" he muttered and turned away from her. Towards the door. Maelia stared at his back. Then gasped as he was sent hurtling to the floor as a Metal Head roared into the Naughty Ottsel.

She screamed and dropped to her knees, barely dodging the claws. Fighting off overwhelming memories, she crawled over to Ryu, who was moaning and only half-conscious.

Not sure what else to do she cupped his face in her hands and shouted loudly into his ear.

"Goddamnit," he murmured and pushed her away from him, glaring. "What?" Then he saw the Metal Head. He grabbed her wrist and hurled them to the door.

"We don't have any weapons!" Maelia shouted as he pulled her out of the Naughty Ottsel, pushing a box against the door when it slid shut.

"We'll get some." Ryu looked wildly around. _Gun course,_ he thought when he saw the metal doors a few meters away. "Zen-Fai. He has more than enough weapons! C'mon." Maelia and Ryu weaved through the crowds of Metal Heads and scrambling humans, trying not to get trampled or attacked.

"What's going on?" Maelia demanded but Ryu didn't have an answer for her.

--&--

Keira was sitting at her table with Sig and Samos, telling them what had gone on between her and Aithne. She was crying softly, feeling guilty and mad at the same time.

Samos and Sig were sharing looks. They had known the suppression Keira had placed on her daughter, just as they knew her reasons for it. It seemed that Keira was finally realizing the same thing as well.

"Is what I'm doing right?" Keira asked, her face was an odd mixture of puffy red from her tears and pale from her anger. "I want to think it is… but now… now…"

Before she could continue though, there was a knock at the door.

Glancing up, Sig stood from the table and said calmly, "I'll get it, cherry." Leaving Samos and Keira sitting at the table, he walked towards the front door of the house.

Samos reached out and stroked her hand. "My dear, you must do what you feel is right. Remember that I did what I thought was right by taking you in when your mother… well… you know." He meant to say when Keira's mother had been found dying on his doorstep in Sandover Village, but Samos did not wish to bring up such harsh memories.

"Thank you, Daddy." Keira leaned across the table and placed her forehead against his. "I love you."

"I love you too, Keira." Samos stroked her hair in his custom way, fatherly and lovingly.

Sig strode to the door. Keira's hallways were narrow and it took a little angling to get his mass through the narrow walkways. _Good thing I've been staying' in shape_, he thought in small humor as a tiny smile played on his lips.

He opened the door and demanded, "Can I help you, chilly pepper?" He tilted his head when he saw who was standing outside the threshold.

"Is this the Mar household?" the girl asked. Her voice was cold, robotic. It didn't sound like the voice of a sixteen year old girl. It almost sounded like she was saying something she had been told to say, practiced, rehearsed.

"Yeah," he said tentatively. Something about this girl had warning signals going off. A red alarm all but screeched in his head. His grip on the door frame tightened. "What can I do ya for?"

The girl's face shifted. It was such a sudden change that it caught Sig off guard. She went from distant and calm to focused and ruthless. She swung her leg out, hitting him hard in the stomach. Her strength was much, much more than her svelte body would lead one to believe. The very strength of her leg had him crashing into the floor feet away.

"Surrender and be spared," the girl said as she walked into the room, boots clicking against the wood. "You cannot win."

Samos and Keira rushed into the room. "Sig!" fell from both of their mouths in unison. They skidded to a halt right in front of him as he struggled to get to his feet.

"I am looking for the one who calls herself Keira Mar," the girl said. Keira turned and ran, her feet hitting the stairs as she went. "Completing the objective." Slowly, dispassionately, she made her way to the stairs.

Sig jumped in front of her, barring her path. "I don't think so, cherry. Just try that sucker move on me one more time."

"Resistance is futile. Chance of death is ninety nine point nine percent." The girl looked at him calmly, undaunted by the large man. "Stand down."

"Don't think so," Sig muttered as Samos's hands sparked green.

"Understood," the girl said and looked over her shoulder. "They are resisting. Requesting backup." Samos blinked and Sig growled. Metal Heads pushed their way into the doorway. "Eliminate the two men. Leave the Mar to me."

Keira was suddenly back in the room, this time glaive in hand. She tossed Sig his Peacemaker. "Don't think we're going down without a fight!" she shouted as she swung the long, black pole around with expertise.

"Very well." The girl unsheathed her knives from her the back of her knees. They were long and sharp, and glittered silver. She swung them so they were blocking her wrists and lower arm, a defensive and offensive position. "You will be defeated."

The Metal Heads rushed forward, taking Samos and Sig's attention. Sig blasted one and was attacked by another from behind. He felt the vibration of a Metal Head as its long, jagged teeth connected with his plated arm. He looked down into its eyes, snarling. Dragging his Peacemaker up, he forced the butt of the gun into the Metal Head's skull. It went down.

But Sig was already moving. He lunged across the hallway, grabbing a Metal Head roughly by its scaly shoulder and fired a round directly into its face. The hot slap of blood hit him in his face. Cursing, Sig wiped at it, pausing for a moment to refill his gun.

Samos dodged and rolled while creating protective green shields. The old man was not a fighter and he could barely support himself in his old age. Still, he managed to hold his own. His wooden staff shot out the sticky green liquid of his eco magick. A Metal Head moved to attack him and he swung the wooden staff around, bashing the Metal Head repeatedly. Sweat pooled along his brows as he attempted to keep himself safe while charging enough Green Eco to do something about the girl who was threatening his daughter.

The girl approached Keira slowly, casually. Keira crouched into her trained fighting position. The girl stopped a few feet away, waiting for Keira's move. Keira lunged, screaming, and the girl sidestepped to the left and held out a wrist, the metal of the glaive clanking hard against the metal of her dagger.

Keira pushed away, her glaive sliding against the dagger. Sparks rose from the mating and parting as the two women sized each other up. Then the girl lunged, shifting from passive to down right deadly in the blink of an eye. She heeled Keira in the stomach, flipped over with gymnastic grace, and grabbed her by the neck.

_It's over too fast_, was the only thought that penetrated Keira's suddenly frightened brain. No one could move that fast. Jak, in his day, maybe. But this was just a young girl. How could she have possible pulled such a move, and so expertly?

"Do not worry," the girl said as she leaned into Keira. "You are to be taken alive."

"Keira!" Samos shouted and made a move to rescue his daughter. A Metal Head, their leader one would guess by her body size and power in the scuffle, grabbed him and hauled him back. When he struggled against the Metal Head's control, even going as far enough as to try to hit it with green eco, the Metal Head impaled him with her deadly claws.

Samos gurgled and fell lifelessly to the floor, blood pooling around his body.

"DADDY!" Keira screeched and kicked and howled against the girl. Surprisingly, the girl released her death grip on Keira's pale neck.

"That was unnecessary, Kiff Fire. He was not a hostile enemy," the girl admonished in a cool tone. When Keira moved to rush over to her father, tears falling down her cheeks, the girl reached out and pinched her neck with the slightest pressure. Instantly, natural body gases filtered into Keira's brain and she passed out, falling to the floor.

"Damnit. What are you?" Sig rasped and he struggled to gain to his feet, blood flowing steadily from a wound on his neck. The girl walked over and looked down at him, no emotions flickering in her eyes. He spit at her feet.

"Please remain on the floor," the girl said and watched as Sig lumbered to his feet just to spite her. She nodded. "It is understood." Then she gave him a hard roundhouse kick to the face, again sending him across the floor. Sig's head made an ominous _crack_ against the wall and he lay still.

"The mission has been accomplished. Kiff Fire, finish with the city then report back to the Master," the girl ordered as she easily lifted Keira's limp body off the floor, throwing the woman over her shoulder.

"He is not my master," Kiff growled as the girl left the burning city.

--&--

Cyren dragged Aithne behind him as they made a mad dash to the gun course. People, fire, and Metal Heads all circulated around them.

"We have to make sure… that…" Cyren huffed as he glanced at Aithne as they ran. Her face was pale from the exertion it took for her to keep up. "Father… is alright… we have to get… weapons."

Aithne nodded in understanding, but couldn't drag in enough oxygen to voice her agreement. Then she looked passed him and gasped, finally able to find her vocal cords once again. "Cyren!"

It was a huge Metal Head, a monstrous beast. It swung its claws at Aithne, going for the weaker of the two teenagers. Cyren jumped in front of her, taking the hit in the side with a howl. The force of blow made him crash into Aithne and had them both falling head first into the frigid port water.

Aithne surfaced, gasping and pushed her hair from her eyes. "Cyren?" she called and saw that he was not by her side. Panic seized her and she thrashed around in the water. "Cyren? Where are you?" she demanded.

_There._ Cyren lay on his back in the water, half-conscious. He began to sink as Aithne swam over to him, holding him up at the back. She checked his neck for a pulse and found a strong one. "Cyren? C'mon, Cyren. Please wake up. I can't do this without you!" She pressed her lips against his, pushing air into his water-clogged lungs.

He moaned and fluttered his eyes open, looking into her soaked face. "Aithne… ah… did anyone catch that bus?" he wondered and then realized he was surrounded by water. He pushed away from her and looked around. "Father!"

"C'mon! It's probably safer if we swim there!" Aithne looked down at his chest, where the Metal Head had made contact, but couldn't see the wound in the murky water. "Are you alright?"

No. His side was aching and he could feel warm blood around him. But he answered her, "Yeah. Let's go. We gotta get to Father's!"

Aithne nodded and kicked over to the gun course, Cyren lapping behind her. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the gun course but Aithne's arms were burning by the time they managed to pull themselves on the ramp leading out of the water.

Cyren had more reasons to keep moving than Aithne and it had him pushing himself to his feet and making the last few steps to his father's house. Gasping for breath, Aithne pushed herself up and sluggishly chased after him.

The gun course was in disarray, the windows burned and the door was unhinged. The Metal Heads had spared no mercy. If anything, they were hardest on the gun course. Countless Metal Heads were pouring out of the building, apparently done with whatever—or whoever—had been inside.

"No!" Cyren cried as he rushed inside, ignored by the Metal Heads. Aithne hurried after him, gripping her sides as they burned from the lack of oxygen.

There was wreckage everywhere. Guns lay broken and scattered across the floor, walls were destroyed, furniture had been completed decimated, there was nothing but rubble. Cyren's home had been destroyed beyond compare.

And in the center of it… in the center of it lay Zen-Fai, one hand pressed to his gapping stomach wound, vainly trying to cease the flow of blood. His sword was still clasped in his other hand, but the arm was twisted at an odd angle and appeared to be broken. Blood and sweat crusted on his face.

"Father!" Cyren gushed and dropped to his knees beside Zen-Fai, gathering the broken man into his arms. Aithne stood at his side, pressing a hand to her trembling lips to fight off her tears.

"Cy—Cyren," Zen-Fai rasped, raising his shaking arm from his wound and placing the bloody palm on Cyren's trembling shoulders. "I—I was always pr—proud of you… of who you are. Re—remember that. Re—remember that I love you… do not forget… no—no matter what you learn."

"Father, please don't." Tears clouded Cyren's eyes as his face clenched. "We're just gonna… we're gonna…" One of his hands fluttered down to Zen-Fai's wound, then fluttered away, and back again. It was as if they weren't sure what to do. "Oh… oh Goddess…"

"You must… you must get out… get out of the city!" Zen-Fai rasped, his fingers tightening on Cyren's shoulder. His other hand released his sword and moved to his neck. He pulled a silver medallion from it and pressed it into Cyren's fluttering palms. "Wear i—it and every—everything will fall into—into place."

"Father, please. Stay with me, Father. I'm not strong enough… without you," Cyren begged but he saw Zen-Fai's eyes go blind, he was no long seeing.

"Tell—tell my son… tell him… that I love him," Zen-Fai managed before his body went limp and fell out of Cyren's numb arms. For a moment Cyren leaned as if to reach for the dead man, but then he fell back on his heels and rocked himself.

"Cyren… Cyren…" Unsure of what else to do, Aithne pressed herself against his back, stroking his hair. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." She kissed his hair and clung to him, keeping her own sadness out of her.

"We… we have to go." Cyren stood, his eyes still lined with tears. He helped Aithne gently to her feet. "Get out weapons. We have to escape. Zen-Fai is… _was_ right. The city is falling." He watched as Aithne stood and obeyed.

When she returned, handing him his modified bow staff and putting her sais in the loops of her jeans, he noticed how pale she was and how hard she was trembling. _Aithne's frightened_, Cyren realized and blinked in surprise. He had never seen Aithne afraid before.

Without a word he brought her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "I will protect you, Aithne. I promise." He stroked her back, taking as much comfort from having her in his arms as she took from being there.

"I don't need protection," she said against his chest and tried to pull away. But the tug was halfhearted.

"I love you… and I want to protect you, even if you don't need it," Cyren admitted and knew, as Aithne stiffened, it might not have been the best thing to say.

"Cyren, I can't—" Aithne stated, those emotions she had locked off ever since she had met him were coming up her throat again. _No! No! Love only hurts!_ her mind screamed.

"Later, Aithne. Later." Cyren grabbed her wrist. "We have to escape the city. Everything can come later."

They made their way out of the building. Cyren felt guilty at leaving Zen-Fai's body to the whim of the flames, but there was no time to give him a burial. He would give his father the grief and reflective period he deserved, once he was sure both he and Aithne were safe.

_Oh Father… it shouldn't have been like this. I'm so sorry. I'll miss you forever and ever and I'll always love you. I just wish… I wish we had more time._

"Wait," Aithne hissed and dragged her wrist out of his grasp. "My mother! We have to get to the Race Stadium and make sure she's okay."

"Aithne, there's no—"

"I'm going, Cyren! With or without you!" She and her mother never saw eye to eye, but Aithne loved her. She would not abandon her mother. Not when there was a possibility she needed her help.

"Fine!" Cyren shouted in frustration and followed the girl as she made her way towards the Race Stadium sector.

"Aithne! Cyren!" They both turned at the sound of their names. It was Maelia and Ryu, both holding guns that had been dropped by defeated Krimzon Guard members. Maelia was pale and trembling while Ryu looked stern and grim.

There was no time for past anger and resentment. Aithne grabbed Maelia's arm and glanced at Ryu. "We're going to Mom's Race Stadium. We gotta make sure she's okay. Then we're leaving. The city's going down. They came too quickly."

"What about Zen-Fai?" Ryu asked, noticing that the old man wasn't there. His eyes moved to the gun course.

"Dead," Cyren said softly and Ryu regretted his words as Cyren's eyes went dark and sad. Mournful. "The Metal Heads… got him…"

"Damn them," Ryu muttered, no one found room to argue.

"Mommy and Daddy should be down that way, too." Maelia took hold of Aithne's shoulders in pure terror. "Oh, Aithne, what are we going to do?"

"First things first. Let's go find my mom. Sig's probably with her and he's our best bet." She tried to offer Maelia a reassuring smile, but failed. Instead, her face remained pale and frightened.

"Okay," Cyren said and they were off, rushing towards the Race Stadium, dodging Metal Heads as they went, shooting and fighting when it was necessary. Most of the Metal Heads seemed uninterested in the four teenagers however. Their real attention was on the palace.

"Mom… Dad… get out," Ryu muttered under his breath, quietly enough that no one heard him. He was glad. He didn't want anyone to worry about his family, it would just add another detour to their list. Ashlin and Torn could take care of themselves, Ryu told himself.

The Racing Sector was nothing more than fiery ruins and decaying buildings. There were already bodies littering the ground, torn to pieces or burned to ashes. Maelia had already begun to sob in earnest, but the tears were lost in the rush of the wind and the screams of people dying.

Aithne took the lead, her powerful legs kicking up broken rock and dirt as she made a mad dash to her mother's house. _Please, Mom… please… don't be… I love you. I never got to tell you how much, but I do. I love you._

Cyren was the only one who managed to keep up with her, the only one who was able to match her stride for stride. Her face was pale and Cyren knew what was floating through her mind. He could still see Zen-Fai, bleeding to death on the floor of the Gun Course.

_Don't let that happen to Aithne… please… she's more fragile than she realizes_. He wanted to reach out and hold her but he knew that this was neither the time nor the place. And Aithne's reaction to his sudden, emotional kiss had been less than encouraging.

Her house—the house she lived in, had grown up in, the home she had always known—was destroyed, from top to bottom. Her breath hissed out of her lungs as she jerked open the door which immediately fell off its hinges.

"Mom?" There was no answer and for a moment blackness covered her eyes. Then she saw everything in stark clear colors. "Grandpa, Uncle Sig!"

Samos was the closest to her. Aithne dropped to her knees and gently shook the man laying still on the ground. His blood was still fresh on the floor and his eyes were empty and dead in his face. Aithne shook him and called his name, crying. Maelia turned and bent down with Ryu to inspect Sig.

"Aithne…" Cyren crouched down beside her and, watching as she shook her head, pressed two fingers to Samos's throat. "I'm sorry… Aithne, he's gone. No pulse."

"No! No!" Aithne knew it was true. She had known the minute she had seen him. There was too much blood for the frail old man to survive. But it didn't make it any easier to except. Samos was her _grandpa_.

And he was dead. And she was too late. Oh God… Samos was dead.

"Sig is alright," Ryu called, trying to offer Aithne some bright lining in the darkness. "Just unconscious. Help me move him outside, Maelia. We can't just leave him here." He and Maelia gripped the edges of Sig's shoulders and moved the bulky man toward the door.

"Mom…" Aithne realized and turned her frightened eyes to Cyren. "We haven't found my mother yet!"

Without a word, Aithne shot to her feet and raced out the door. Cyren shouted after her moments before following. Maelia and Ryu finished moving Sig and came back inside just in time to see Aithne and Cyren rush out. As they moved to follow, the Metal Heads swarmed in, blocking their paths.

"MOM?" Aithne cried as Cyren came up to her side.

"There!" Cyren shouted, seeing Keira's hair flash in the fires. Aithne wheeled around just in time to see her mother slung over the shoulder of a slim woman as she walked calmly through the burning fire.

They raced after the dark-haired girl. She sensed them and turned around slowly as they halted in front of her. Calm golden eyes regarded them. Keira's head bumped against her back and her limp body shivered unconsciously.

"Let her go," Aithne growled, taking a step forward. The girl didn't even seem fazed by the heated, deadly glare Aithne sent her way.

"Negative. The Mar woman is to be taken to—" Aithne didn't wait for her to finish before lunging into an attack. The girl sidestepped her and dodged Cyren as he lunged at her as well.

It was instantly apparent who the superior warrior was. The younger woman managed to dodge each attack without ever dropping Keira. She didn't even break a sweat, dodging with expertise that was far more advanced than Zen-Fai had taught them. Whoever this mysterious woman was, she was a more skilled fighter, a better killer. It seemed as if her entire existence was for fighting.

She caught Cyren's leg as he swung out to attack, pushing him away. Her back snapped back when Aithne would have pounded her in the face. Her eyes remained distant and cool as she curled down, swinging her out and tripping Cyren as he ran at her.

A roundhouse kick to Aithne's stomach sent the young woman sailing across the rubble. She hit the ground hard, almost feeling the snap of the bones in her arms. Moaning, she rolled onto her side and clutched her arm, fighting the red haze of pain covering her vision.

In the back of his mind a part of Cyren demanded he see to Aithne, but the warrior had slipped into him and he couldn't back down. His concentration was solely on the dark-haired woman in front of him, of beating her, nothing else penetrated his sharp brain.

But the girl was so much better than him, and he didn't dare bring out his bow staff and injure Keira. And even with one arm occupied, the girl was kicking his ass.

"You are not my enemy," the girl answered calmly as she ducked one of his legs, bringing her own up to kick him away. "But if you do not move I will have no choice but to eliminate you."

"Give me the woman and you can leave," Cyren snapped, the innocence and boyishness in his voice gone, replaced by power and maturity.

"Very well," the girl answered and started toward him. Cyren almost backed up, but he crouched into a fighting position. If he was going to die, he was going to die brave. Like his father.

_Oh, Father, help Aithne…_

The girl withdrew a dagger from one of the sheaths on her leg and raised the glittering blade into the air. Cyren winced as it fell down…

But it never landed a hit. Cyren blinked in rapid surprise. A Metal Head… a Metal Head stood in front of him, one arm raised so the dagger dug into the tough flesh there and not into Cyren's soft, giving neck.

"You are not with Kiff Fire," the girl assumed.

"No," the Metal Head answered in a voice that suggested his gender was male. He pushed the girl away. "Leave."

The Metal Head was tall on his two feet. His body type suggested that he was a scout and meant to walk on all fours, though he stood proudly on his back feet now. The scaly skin covering his thick bones was lighter than the normal skin-tone of the Metal Heads and there was knowledge in his eyes.

"She can't," Cyren muttered dizzily, looking at Keira's unconscious form. _Aithne's mother… I have to save her. I couldn't save Father, but I can still save Aithne's mother. I can't let her die._ "No, I won't let her."

Without warning, the Metal Head reached out and caught his wrist as he made a move to go after the girl. "This is a fight we cannot win," the Metal Head said in a reassuring voice. "But there will be another time… if you survive."

Before Cyren could even think about protesting, the girl was running, Keira bouncing on her shoulders, and Metal Heads were moving in. The Metal Head at his side pushed Cyren onto his rump and lunged into battle.

He crouched onto all fours one more, his claws striking into the air as he slid along the dirt and pavement. His talons tore into the flesh of the enemy Metal Head. The Metal Head who had rescued Cyren moved his leg out, tripping an oncoming enemy as it lunged. He grabbed the ground and spun himself over, positioning his talons deep into his enemy's stomach.

Cyren hadn't thought Metal Heads could bleed.

The Metal Head glanced over at Cyren and the young man jolted. He hadn't thought Metal Heads were smart enough to talk. He hadn't even known that their skulls could be a deep, violet either.

"Your friends are in trouble," the Metal Head told him as he bent down to help Aithne to her feet.

"Don't touch me!" Aithne hissed, jumping from his grasp. "You did this! You and the rest of those damned Metal Heads!"

"My name is Roid," the Metal Head said slowly and looked into Aithne's eyes, holding her there. "I am _not_ you enemy. For years I have been protecting Cyren, making sure that no one found him. I am here to help you live through this."

"You don't expect me to trust you just because you say so," Aithne snarled, glaring deep into his eyes. Undaunted by the sincerity in them. "You—you're kind took away Jak Mar from my mother! You made her suffer."

"I am a Metal Head, but I did not harbor ill will towards your father," Roid answered and Aithne's glare only intensified. "Kor was no leader and I was glad to see him die. I am here only to see to it that Cyren lives out his life."

"Why? Why would anyone want me dead?" Cyren demanded in earnest confusion. Roid said nothing as his claws reached out and tugged at the medallion Cyren had clipped around his neck when they had been running to the Race Sector.

"You're connection to Zen-Fai is enough," Roid answered and then turned his attention to the girl. "Hate me if you will. But I _am_ here to help you. And I will help you, because helping you means helping Cyren. For now we must be allies, partners. I am the only one that can get you out of the city, the only one who can protect you from the Metal Heads, and I am the only one that knows where your mother is being taken."

"Fine," Aithne agreed in raw hatred, baring her teeth. "But that doesn't mean I trust you. For now you can help. But if you try anything—_anything_—I'll kill you faster than you can blink."

"That I doubt, but I understand." Roid looked over at Aithne's home. "We must collect your friends. The boy dispatched those inside easily enough and the girl was smart enough to stay out of the way."

"Maelia and Ryu," Aithne gasped and groped for Cyren's hand. "We have to get out of here. Where are they taking my mother?"

"First thing's first. We must get out. I'll explain everything once we are safely out of Haven." Roid, Cyren, and Aithne made a dash to the house, Aithne screaming for her friends.

Both Maelia and Ryu came out when they heard Aithne's voice. Maelia was deathly pale while Ryu had picked up Sig's Peacemaker. They both skidded to a halt when they saw Roid and Ryu raised his gun to fire.

Aithne considered letting the Metal Head be shot as Cyren jumped in front of the line of fire. "Stop! He's not an enemy. He's going to get us out of the city, take us to where Keira is! We need him!"

"What?" Ryu demanded looking incredulous and didn't lower his gun. "You've got to be shitting me. This is a Metal Head. _A_ _Metal Head_!"

"He's responsible for this!" Maelia added, joining the argument on Ryu's side. "We can't trust him."

"No," Aithne agreed softly as she stepped over to Cyren's side. "No, we can't. But I stopped hating Metal Heads a long time ago. They didn't make Jak Mar go to Dead Town that day. And Roid says he knows where my mother is. I don't have a choice."

"If you move—" Ryu started dangerously.

"You'll kill me," Roid filled in humorlessly. "I already know. Now, follow me! We must escape the city!"

"Wait!" Aithne piped up suddenly. She gripped Maelia's wrist. "Sig? Where's Uncle Sig?"

"He's near the water," Maelia answered, breathing shallowly. "I couldn't… well, we weren't sure what else to do. He doesn't seem to be too badly injured, but he's still unconscious."

"We can't worry about him," Roid said calmly. "He should be fine. He is a Wastelander, is he not?"

Ryu dropped the Peacemaker and, with Aithne and Maelia and Cyren, followed Roid through the city streets, making a beeline for the escape route.

_I promise I'll come back_, Aithne thought as she glanced back at her burning city. _Uncle Sig… watch out until then… please…_

--&--

On the day Haven City burned for the first time, Nyx and her crew of spies set out for Sage-Harmona.

"Good luck," Sala said as she brought Nyx into a hug. "Please be careful, Nyx. For me, at least. I need you back here."

"I will," Nyx said as she drew away. "I promise I will come back." She looked at Gareth and bowed her head to her king. "I trust you will keep things in order until I return?"

"I survived most of my youth without you, Nyx. I think I can survive a week or two," Gareth answered with a thick smile. He brought Nyx into a bear hug, older brother to younger sister. "Be careful," he said against her ear. "I really don't know what I'd do if something happened to you…"

"Gareth…" she whispered and blinked back tears. She looked into his light blue eyes and felt her heart sigh. "You've always been the brother I never had, even if I didn't act like I felt that way. I did. Be strong."

With a sad smile, she bent down onto her knees and looked into Sedet's blue eyes. On her knees, Sedet almost towered over her. "Little prince," she said and stroked the boy's hair. Normally such an action would have the boy jerk away but he allowed it, considering the seriousness of the situation. "Watch over you mother and father. Keep them in line for me?"

Those dark eyelashes fluttered once and a small, quiet smile covered Sedet's face. He was a quiet boy, this Sedet, often hovering just outside of conversations, listening to everything but never getting involved with them. But he loved it when people talked to him as if he were an adult. "Yes," he answered in his soft voice.

Knowing that he would hate it, Nyx brought him into her arms because she couldn't resist. "You'll make such a fine ruler," she said sadly. "But try smiling more, okay? It's never good to be so serious all the time. Trust me." She stroked his cheeks as the tall boy trembled against her.

She pulled away and glanced behind him. Standing in the distance were two silhouetted figures. One was a tall, lean man and the other was a tiny girl-child. Nyx felt her heart constrict. _Nik and Merasaki._

As she approached them both, Merasaki left her father's side and ran into her arms. Nyx gathered her up and held her against her chest, choking on tears. _Why do I have to leave this?_ she thought. _My child. How can I?_

"Mummy," Merasaki said as she pressed her tiny face into Nyx's neck, wrapping her legs around her mother's waist. "Please don't go. Stay and play with me."

"Mera, darling," Nyx said as she looked into Merasaki's eyes. "Look at me. I _have_ to do this. If I don't, bad men will hurt other people. You don't want that do you? No. You're a good girl. Mummy will be back."

"O—okay," the girl sniffled and kissed her mother sloppily on the cheek. The tears in her daughter's eyes didn't fall, but neither did they go away. "But I love you, Mummy. Come back soon."

"Make sure Sedet plays more, okay? And get him into the sun. Don't let him hang out in the library all the time, alright?" Merasaki nodded, but her cheery manner was some how dampened. "Run along and give your father and me some time alone, alright?"

The tiny girl nodded and glanced at her father, before scampering off. With a heavy heart, Nyx turned and walked towards Nik.

He was waiting for her, hands stuffed into his pockets. "You're going," was all he said. And it wasn't a question, it was a statement. It was ripped for him, ripe and bitter. He had been storing it up for a while.

"Yes." They had been like this for the past three days. Terse and awkward. Nik could hardly look at her when all Nyx wanted to do was hold him so she could remember the feeling while she was gone.

"It doesn't matter that I don't want you to go, does it?" Nik smiled bitterly, then followed it with a laugh. "Duty always comes first for Nyx Urban. Always did. But I don't want you to go, Nyx. And it's not because you're betraying Sage-Harmona, though that is a part of it. It's because… it's because what happens if you don't come back? Spies get killed all the time."

"Nik, please don't—"

"Did you ever think about me when you accepted? What will I do if you die? How will I live?" Nik's hands dug into the flesh on his palms. "What about Merasaki? What about our little girl? How will I tell her that her mother's never coming back?"

"I have to go, Nik. That's why I'm going. I need to protect you and Merasaki. This is the only way I know how." She started to reach out for him, but stopped. This couldn't be fixed with words and she didn't have the time. "Are you even going to kiss me goodbye?"

"No. If I hold you, Nyx, I'm not letting go." Nik looked away. "Go."

With a small sob, Nyx turned and headed back to Sala, Gareth, and the two children. Her shoulders trembled and her breath hissed, but she didn't shed a single tear. _Some day you'll understand, Nik. Some day._

"Come back, Nyx," Nik said softly when she was too far away to hear. His eyes were dark and guarded. "Or I swear to the Goddess I'll make our daughter an orphan before the day is through. I'll ride to Sage-Harmona and damn them all for cowards. I can't live without you. I'm not as strong as you."

With sad, tired, and yearning eyes he watched her set off.

--&--

"Is the trap set?"

"Yes, my lord. Within tomorrow's early morning they will be within the Holy City."

"Good. Haven City has already crumbled and we have our perfect experiment body. Now, the only thing standing in the way is the Holy City. They won't be able to function without their rulers."

"And Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi? What should I tell him?"

"That everything is going as we planned and to lose the beasts."

"Lose them, my lord?"

"Kill them. They're inferior beings, no matter how much they have evolved since the Metal Head leaders—Kor's—death. They are still nothing compared to us and I will not have them tainting my new world."

"Yes, my lord."

"Soon the world shall bow down before The Mage!"

--&--

The sand crashed into their faces as Cyren, Aithne, Maelia, and Ryu—led by Roid—escaped into the desert. Aithne huddled against Cyren's body, burying her face into the crook of his arm. Maelia was behind Ryu, head lowered. Roid was on all fours, head bowed as well to fight the storm.

Finally, they escaped the wicked sandstorm and found themselves staring into the emptiness that was the Wasteland. Staring at it, there was little wonder why everyone chose to live within the city.

The Wasteland was so barren and desolate, so devoid of life. Heat fizzled in the air and sand clustered and spun. It was unwelcoming and dull and brown.

And in the background Haven City burned, a plume of smoke rising from within. The fire was like a parasite, destroying its host from the inside out. Aithne turned her head from it and looked towards the endless sea of sand before her.

She shivered without realizing what she was doing. _Mom… please be okay. Wherever you are. I'm coming and we'll… and we'll forget about our fights._

"Aithne…" Maelia voice seemed very delicate and fragile. Her body shivered, hands wrapped around her upper arms. "Maybe… maybe we should go… back?"

"Where are they taking her, Metal Head?" Aithne asked, ignoring her former friend, and glanced over at Roid as he climbed to his feet. He was at least seven feet tall. "Where are they taking my mother?"

"The name is Roid," he replied. "And you're mother is most likely in Sage-Harmona as we speak. With Metal Heads, the girl can move faster than us."

"Why?" Aithne whispered as she shivered again. Cyren reached out for her but she jerked away. If she was touched now she felt like she would collapse into weak, girlish sobs. "Why is she there? Why is any of this happening?"

"Sage-Harmona wants power. Haven and the Holy City are in the way, especially if they have a military controlled government. Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi—that's the current 'Lord General'—also wants an army." Roid looked away, towards the direction of Sage-Harmona, even if it wasn't in view. "That girl you fought… she is the earliest of Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi's 'Experiments'."

"Experiments?" Ryu demanded, not willing to forget that Roid was a Metal Head. It was in his blood to hate him. "Sage-Harmona Experiments? Why didn't my father—my mother—know about it?"

"The Lord General kept it under tight wraps," Roid answered, not bothering to look at Ryu. "That girl is the weakest—and most human—of the Experiments. She's the failed prototype, but her human instincts allow her to be a more effective killer. Keira Hagai Mar is likely to be the perfect Experiment, her blood allows her to handle the Dark Eco more effectively than normal humans."

"Dark Eco?" Aithne snapped and wheeled around to face Roid as he nodded. "We have to find her. I _won't_ let them do that to her." She glanced down at her hands, almost feeling the blood pulsing in her veins. She remembered something her mother had told her once, a long time ago, about that blood.

"_Aithne, there's something you need to know… about your father and his past. Something they didn't tell you in history class."_

She shook her head. _Don't think about it._ This was no time to wonder about what genes and powers Jak Mar had given her. None had surfaced yet.

"Aithne—" Maelia began.

"You can go back if you want to," Aithne said, turning to look at her. There was no anger in her eyes, no hatred. There wasn't anything. "I won't blame you, but I… I _have_ to go. Don't you understand?"

"Of course I do!" Maelia said with a shake of her strawberry hair. She walked into Aithne's arms. "I was just going to say that I go where you go. I'm so sorry, Aithne. That girl… she came into the Naughty Ottsel and asked for the Racing Sector. I gave it to her. I'm so sorry."

Aithne pulled away and offered Maelia a smile. "It's not your fault. She looks normal. Maelia, I've been such a bitch, but I've missed you. You're such a good friend and I… I've just been so mad at everything."

"This is a tender moment," Roid said as he Cyren and Ryu stood off to the side. "But I do believe we need to move. It will take us days to reach Sage-Harmona, assuming we do not meet any Metal Heads on the way."

Ryu glared at him. "Let's get something straight. I. Don't. Like. You. You're kind killed my people." He poked Roid in the chest. "I don't trust you. Aithne has her weapons and so does Cyren. We'll kill you if you try anything."

"If I wanted you dead, you would be dead. I care little for humans. And I care little for Metal Heads." Roid pushed Ryu away, a hint of anger in his voice. But it was a small hint. "I am only here to see to it that Cyren remains alive through you're little adventures. After that, I will take my leave of you." The expression on his face suggested that he would be grateful for it.

"Why are you keeping me alive?" Cyren questioned and when it looked like Roid would not give him an answer, he pressed, "You should at least tell me that."

"I made a promise," Roid answered and was not forthcoming on anymore information.

"Let's go," Aithne said. "We have to hurry. Who knows what they'll do to her in there? I can't wait and find out."

Without a word, each one of them followed her.

--&--

Lord General Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi took the stairs two at a time into the bowls of Sage-Harmona's palace. It was dark, as it always was, and gave off an aura of evil. Once it had been the host of Sage-Harmona's criminals. Now, those criminals worked for him and the dungeons had been transformed into the base for his human experiments.

The Metal Head Leader, regal despite her almost deformed-looking body, sat on the cold floor surrounded by her fellow clansmen. Hirmoyarbeshi didn't spare them a moment's glance, though his eyes did take careful count of how many Metal Heads were in the room. His guess was about ten.

"Kiff Fire. You work fast," Hirmoyarbeshi said and watched as the Metal Head escaped the shadows and shifted her bulk. "I expected to see you in no less than a week's time. You continue to impress me."

"You underestimate the Metal Heads," Kiff Fire retorted, watching him from the corner of her eye as he slid into the room. _The snake. He doesn't look like a snake, but that is what he is_, she thought. "Especially when it is Haven City we are talking about."

"Of course," Hirmoyarbeshi answered and smiled in his boyish, attractive way. "And we have Keira Hagai Mar within our walls. And unharmed. I have to hand it to you, Kiff Fire. You do get the job done."

"Yes. Now you must hold up your end of the bargain," Kiff Fire snapped, her eyes narrowed. Something seemed _off_. Very off. "You promised freedom and justice for my people. You promised equal treatment."

"Oh yes," Hirmoyarbeshi said as if he had just been reminded of that. He craned his neck to face Kiff Fire. "Now that I think about it… I did promise, didn't I?" His smile was still in place even as he reached into the folds of his robes. Normally, he was decked out in battle armor, but as the Lord General he did have to uphold certain traditions. "I've changed my mind…"

"You can't!" Kiff Fire roared and started forward, her Metal Head followers howling with her. They were ready to attack, to kill. Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi was but one man and they were the dreaded Metal Heads.

"I can," Hirmoyarbeshi answered calmly and withdrew his pistol. It was small and looked unthreatening but the minute the man fired the gun a wave of power shot through the room, pressing the Metal Heads to the ground. Two more shots rang through the air and half of the Metal Heads fell down dead. "Did you really think I would lower myself and become allies with you filthy creatures?"

"You bastard, Hirmoyarbeshi!" Kiff Fire screeched as she surveyed her dead allies. She almost charged Hirmoyarbeshi, but his gun was trained on her forehead. "Epsi, get out of here. Now!"

"Understood!" A sleek, lean Metal Head jumped to his feet and with impressive strength gathered the Metal Heads still living and disappeared into the darkness.

"You'll pay for this, Hirmoyarbeshi. No one double crosses us and lives," Kiff Fire warned and Hirmoyarbeshi fired at her. She dodged it with amazing speed and reflexes and then disappeared into the darkness.

"We shall see," Hirmoyarbeshi muttered and turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. His face broke into another smile. "Ah. Good. You're here. The Metal Heads have escaped. Track them down and kill them all."

The girl's face didn't flinch at her orders. Her golden eyes adjusted to the darkness and she nodded. "Understood. Keira Hagai Mar has been placed in her cell as you requested."

"Very good." He walked over to her and touched her pale, smooth face. "You always impress me, my dear. Even with your human defaults you are my most trusted warrior. Go now."

"Yes, sir," the girl answered, fighting the emotions that flickered in her eyes for a brief second. She took them—whatever they were, she didn't think about what she was feeling—and locked them away.

She walked away, leaving her Master in the darkness and entered the light of the castle. Servants moved around, doing their duties quickly and efficiently, trying not to make eye contact with the girl. Looking into her golden eyes made your breath tighten, and your vision blur. It was as if you were looking into a mirror.

But the girl was not a mirror. That was her default. She was human. She had emotions. They were just buried so deep within her that she was portrayed as a robot.

Her eyes didn't look up when she bumped into another body. She already knew who it was. There was only one person who would dare stand in her way. Throughout the years she felt his eyes following her across the room, glaring, making bullet targets in her back. An odd emotion always filled her when she thought about it so she had taken to not thinking about it.

"Major Yao," she said and glanced up at him from under her dark lashes.

He was older than her by about four years and much taller than her. That made him an extremely tall man since she was a tall woman. He had the broad shoulders of a soldier and the narrow hips of a killer. His hair was cut military length, and unruly, with an interesting shade of onyx, almost as black as hers.

Despite his obvious youth, he wore the outfit of a general. A red tunic of fine silk the sleeves of his shirt were bell-bottoms and a gold chain was wrapped around his left elbow. His shirt had black buttons running up its length and his collar was decorated with golden designs. A red sash was tied around his waist and the ribbons flowed at his side. A small band of silver chimes were also wrapped around his waist. He wore black breeches that were tucked into his brown boots, tied with white strings.

A powerful, curved sword hung from his sash. A brown rope hooked into his sash and connected to the vivid red of it's sheath, holding the gold-hilted sword. The hilt of the sword was curved elegantly, making a wide hole for his hand to hold the weapon.

"One day," he told her, reaching out and locking his big hand around her arm. It was an attractive hand, powerful and confident. Youth had been drilled out of him despite his age and he was truly and utterly a man. A man who had quickly climbed his way in the military ladder. "You're going to pay for what you've done."

"Very well. On that day I assume you will be dealing the punishments?" she questioned, not even flinching as the fingers dug into her skin. She could shake him off if she wanted but she… didn't want to.

_Strange. Further examination is needed._

He bent down at his waist so his lips hovered above her ears. "Yes. Then you'll see just how evil you are and you will regret it."

Not looking at him but neither looking away from him, she nodded. Then she removed herself from his grasp and said, "I must leave. My Master's orders must be completed."

"Your master," he growled and almost cursed. He watched her as she crossed the hallway to her room, preparing to gather her things for her mission.

And she was aware of his eyes as she went.

--&--

Keira jerked awake at the sound of footsteps. She tried to move but found her hands and feet chained down to a flat bed made of chrome metal. Panic swarmed her vision and she almost passed out again, but her inner strength and will to live kept her awake and keen.

"What's going on?" she demanded in a harsh voice, but only received her voice echoing back at her as an answer. She strained herself against the metal cuffing her wrists, but only succeeded in causing a digging pain against her bones.

Then the footsteps drew nearer and Keira coiled against the flat, metal bed she rested on. She felt a growl work its way into the back of her throat. She banked it, biting down on her lip, and lay herself flat on the bed, feigning sleep.

The owner of the footsteps walked into the room and passed. Keira wasn't sure if the person could see her—the entire room was cast in darkness—but she worked to keep her breathing even and deep.

"Come now Lady Keira, you can't tell me that you're still asleep. I know you aren't. You're too fine a warrior for it," said a voice and Keira shuddered in horror. It was pleasant, almost charming. It sent shivers down her spine.

"You. You're behind this aren't you?" Keira barely managed to whisper, not facing him. "You sent the Metal Heads to destroy Haven City. You killed my father."

"I did, indeed, my lady. It was necessary since I needed you. But don't worry, I'll see the entire Metal Head race dead." There was a small hint of humor in the voice's tone and it disgusted Keira.

She turned, craning her neck to look at him. "Why are you doing this? Why?" Tears prickled the corners of her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

_You killed my father, you bastard. I'll make you pay. I'll rip out your throat, I swear._ Keira could still see Samos the Sage lying on the ground, the blood staining the white claws of a Metal Head. Her face clenched in rage.

"Because, my dear Goddess-lady, I hate this weak world I was forced to awaken to," answered the voice. "I will see Sage-Harmona restored to its former glory and I will see the days of yore returned to this land."

"You—you're insane!" Keira hissed and made the move to attack. The metal chains went taut and held her back. "You won't succeed. Even if Haven falls, there's the Holy City and the Wastelanders to contend with."

"Hmm… you know, I did think of that, my dear," the voice answered and Keira felt a warm hand on her cheek. She jerked away from it, hissing. "That's why I plan to rid myself of the Holy City's monarchs. Without leaders, they'll tumble into chaos."

_Sala… Gareth…!_ "No," Keira protested instantly, shaking her head wildly. "You won't. Sala and Gareth are warriors. You can't kill them with your Metal Heads or your army."

"I know that, as well," the voice replied. "That's why I planned to kill the royal family off… subtly. As it is, the plan is already in motion by nightfall the Holy City will be mourning. And within two days, the Mage will be attacking."

"Monster!"

"Don't worry about that anymore," the voice said with a smile in its tone. "You see, by the time we begin to fight the Holy City, your experiments will be completed by then and you'll be my perfect little pet."

"Ex—experiments?" Keira gasped and her mind floated with images. Most of them were Jak. Jak in the Haven City prison, strapped down and being pumped with eco. Jak shifting into Dark Jak, dark eco sparks igniting on his bleached hair.

"Yes. The perfect one. I went through several prototypes, Lady Keira. The one that captured you today was the closest I could get to the warrior I wanted, but the girl's incomplete. She doubts and she almost hesitates and she thinks on her own. You'll be different, of course. You'll obey and follow and kill as I will it, as the Mage wills it and you will be the symbol of the New Age of Sage-Harmona."

"No. No! It won't work," Keira shouted and struggled to keep herself calm. Panicking wouldn't help her, or her position. "What… what about my daughter?"

"I was aware you had a daughter, though her blood has been polluted with the dark eco of your husband, no doubt. It's likely she's dead. The Metal Heads are fierce creatures and as you know, have a grudge against the Haven City residences. But soon you won't even remember having a daughter." Keira's ears picked up the sound of boots backing away, leaving her.

She was silent as the feet and the person disappeared, shaking in rage and fear and helplessness. She heard the _clang_ of a metal door shutting and Keira knew she was alone. Utterly and entirely.

Unsure of what else to do, Keira curled onto her side and prayed.

* * *

**AN:** so, Zen-Fai and Samos that Sage are dead. Don't kill me for killing Samos, alright? It was coming. At least I let Sig live, no? I actually toyed with the idea of killing him off, but than I decided to let him live. He's got things to do! XD

**Act XII:** Jak's back and that's all that really matters

Reviews 

**Xazz:** Part Three, you will see, focuses on the culmination of the events that lead to the eventual battle again Sage-Harmona. It's also a revelation of just about every character I've ever made.

**Carree:** oh! I did too! My brother keep yelling at me to do one mission or another, but I was content to open fire on all Metal Heads that were attacking the city. And the Krimzon Guard. I got a perverse pleasure out of destroying Erol and his ugly Metal-self. Stupid Erol.

**GoodMorningBeautiful2005:** yes, yes he is! Jak's back! Next chapter!

**Nefertari22:** XD if all the OCs scare you now you should have seen an early version of this work. Of course, the earliest draft of Jak IV had only Aithne in it, and she was a baby. And Jak didn't leave and let everyone think he was dead…

**Jaklover123:** I plan to take careful time writing the reunion of Jak and his hate-filled daughter. I've been yearning for that moment to. And I've got a beta now so the grammatical errors will be taken down to a minimum.

**Specter Von Baron:** yeah. It's surprising that a fact as simple as Cyren has purple eyes is going to be a big thing in a few chapters, huh?

**Teh Kitsune:** Aithne and Cyren were always going to get together, ever since I envisioned them in the early visions of this story. When I figured Aithne was going to be a moody, hate-filled woman I made Cyren a soft-spoken, gentle fighter to offset her. Of course, Cyren needs to learn how to stronger and Aithne needs to be kinder. That's why their foils of each other.

**Maieve Avvi:** yeah, I know. But I hate calling them that. And the Metal Heads will refer to themselves as Metal Heads. I'm going to go with the idea that in their language Metal Heads means 'Hora-quan'. And I think my e-mail might be whack or something since I've sent you a number of e-mails. If so, try e-mailing me at my second address, too. It's well, I always aimed for this to be an angsty piece. I do angst best. Plus, this is about war and stuff. So people are bound to get themselves killed, right? I just have so much making everything dark and grim! XD


	13. Beneath You

_Disclaimer:_ yeah. _O-kay_.

Also, I don't own Roid. You'll see.

**AN:** yeah. I know. _Late!_ But, er, loophole! I totally forget that the week I planned to update this one on (this week or the week before) is AP testing week. I have five of them. Five! Math, Science, English, History, Latin. And I failed all of them. 'Cept maybe English. Or Latin. Anyway, point is, I think my brain is soup right now. And, _God_, I have SATs tomorrow. Four freaking hours of it. Shot me know, please? Bear with me here. Just SATs and finals to get through and then v-kay! Summers coming up soon so… yay!

**Warnings:** none

* * *

**Act XIII: Beneath You **

"Well, I have some news for you, my boy. Would you like to hear it?"

A head tilted to the side, blonde hair parting for the pointed ear. "Fine. I don't really give a damn," was the curt reply.

"I see the desert has only seen to it to make you rougher," he answered with a small laugh, running a hand through his raven colored hair. "Sometimes I wonder if you were born to simply be rude. You'd think you would be a little nicer seeing as how—"

"Get on with it," the blonde man interjected with blue eyes that sparked with rage. For a moment he had a distinct purple hue before it faded and his skin returned to a tanned color. "Or I'm leaving."

"Mortals," the man said with a shake of his head. "Sometimes, I see what my sisters tell me. 'Lokin,' they say, 'stop playing with your human pets and remain here with us'. And every time I tell them no."

Without saying anything, the blonde man moved to stand. His hands clenched into fists at his side. Lokin reached out with a small roll of his crimson eyes and placed a strong hand on the mans shoulder and urged the blonde to sit back down.

"Fine. Honestly, you think you'd be _glad_ to see me after so many months in the desert with nothing but sand lizards for company, but hey, you're a tough man." Lokin turned his back on the blonde and pressed a finger to his chin in consideration. "Well… I suppose, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it. Haven City was burned to the ground under the order of Sage-Harmona's leader Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi."

"You lie!" the blonde hissed but he knew it was true. A god didn't often lie. He just didn't always give all of the truth. He jumped back to his feet again and shook his fists angrily. "I should've been there, damnit. And it's all your _fucking_ fault and… my family! What the hell happened to them, Lokin? I swear to whatever higher powers reside above if anything happened to them I'll—"

"Your daughter's fine, and with her companions in the desert. And she's going to run into some old friends of yours shortly, so for now she's safe." The crimson pupils darkened to a blood red as Lokin gazed deeply into the eyes of the Future. "But your wife…"

"Keira." The blonde grabbed Lokin by the flimsy collar of his white tunic and growled into his face. "Damnit! Tell me! If… if there's something wrong with her you're going to wish I died years ago."

"Aren't I doing that already?" Lokin muttered disappointedly before continuing, "Keira Hagai Mar has been kidnapped and taken to Sage-Harmona, under not Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi's orders, but the orders of that man. The Mage." For the first time a hint—only a hint—of anger showed in his eyes.

"Sage-Harmona?" The blonde snarled and dropped Lokin. He had been to Sage-Harmona once, only once, and had been suffocated by the eerie silence that surrounded the streets, the sense of desolation and fear. "Why the hell would she be taken to Sage-Harmona? And by the Mage?"

"Well… the Mage—as well as Hirmoyarbeshi—are very interested in making a perfect army of super soldiers," Lokin replied with a small smile that only added an old look to his middle-aged face. "And they need a symbol to lead their 'new world order'. What better than the descendant of a Goddess? Not only that, Keira's blood may prove to make her very tolerant to the poisons they use to enhance a body's capability."

"Damnit… damnit… _damnit_… _damnit_," the blonde hissed and reached down and pulled his rucksack onto his shoulders, not even glancing at the crimson-eyed god. "This is all your fault."

"You think that," was all Lokin allowed. His smile remained in place. "You can leave since you've done what I've asked. The next part won't come until later. Go collect your wife."

He stood, his entire frame shaking with rage. Without saying a word to Lokin, he moved passed him. For a moment, Lokin looked upon the alcove they had been standing on. Then he turned and looked at the man.

"You know something? You've changed," he admitted and watched as the man paused in his stride. He turned to look at Lokin over his shoulder.

"And whose fault is that?" he demanded before sliding down the stony hill and running into the sands.

Once upon a time that man had been a hero, Lokin considered. He had been a boy turned beast turned man turned husband turned man again. Lokin knew he had taken everything away from this man, had known he had taken the man's life and crushed it within his hand. Those deep blue eyes had just been beginning to gain hope within their depths and then Lokin had come along and darkened those hopes until they had all but faded away.

"I suppose you'll never forgive me, eh?" Lokin asked with a calm shrug. "Not that I care very much…"

And truthfully, he didn't. Gods didn't often regret their decisions. And when Lokin had seen the future, had glimpsed into it, he hadn't hesitated at coming down to the world and dragging a man who deserved peace and happiness more than anyone into the gritty world of war once more.

It had all been necessary. Of course, no one saw that yet, but they would. Within his frame, the man carried the keys to the future. The only way to save the world lay within a battered, weary body.

The god turned his head and began to head towards the path which the blonde man had taken. Even as he walked he began to fade. He felt the tug of the Otherworld call to him, the place where the gods once slept and now the remaining ones resided.

"There had been hope in you once…" Lokin muttered as he thought upon his chosen, remembering the look of hatred, pain, and rage in his eyes. It was as if he had once more returned to the angry, revenge-bent young man he had been. "And now I see that it's gone and the Fates won't let me see if you get it back."

He felt a small emotion tickling the back of his neck. Regret? Sadness? Lokin didn't know and he didn't delve into the emotion. He pushed them away and returned a smile to his face.

Mortals. Would he ever understand them? The man refused time and time again to understand why Lokin had dragged him away from his family. He had instead turned all his hatred and aggression onto Lokin and blamed him for everything that went wrong in his life.

"Boy," Lokin said thoughtfully as the grainy scenery of the desert faded and was replaced by bright greens and sparkling waters. "He's going to hate me when he meets his daughter. She hates you just as much as you hate everything, Jak."

Jak Mar, hated by the one person he wanted to love him the most. How very, very ironic and appropriate for Jak's life.

Then Lokin laughed because it was funny.

--&--

"_What do you mean I can't go back? Back to Keira? She's having a baby, damn you! I need to be there."_

"_You can't go back and if you try to I'll make sure your child suffers for it. I'm a god and my powers are great. Do as I ask and you'll be reunited with your family… one day. If you're good."_

"_You just can't do this, Lokin! I don't care what I owe you. You won't keep me away from my family."_

"_Oh, but I can. And I will. I need you to drop this, Jak. Don't you understand? If I thought there was another way then I would…"_

"_I don't believe you. I see it in your eyes. You're getting pleasure from every moment of this. You are!"_

"_Well, I won't lie about that. I am, but that doesn't change the fact that if there was another way I would take it. I don't trust you mortals to get the job done, but you're my only hope."_

"_Your only hope? Yeah right."_

"_Honestly, Jak. I don't care if you believe me or not. Because, believing it or no, you still have to do as I say. For now, you work for me."_

"_Damnit…"_

--&--

"Mommy… I wanna go outside," Sedet said solemnly, looking out the window of his mother's office, high in the Holy City palace. From his position he thought he saw a plume of smoke rising in the distance, but he chose to ignore it.

"Well then, Sedet, why don't you just go outside?" Sala suggested to her son, never looking up from the long, black lines of information she was reading. It felt as if she hadn't moved from that desk in days.

Sedet almost pouted but he reminded himself that big boys didn't pout. The whole point of going outside was to get his mother to come with him. Her skin had taken on a pale, sun-deprived look and she was growing thinner and thinner by the day.

Nine-year-olds shouldn't worry about such things when they were so young, but Sedet did. He always did. That was why he was so quiet, so solemn-eyed. He was busy watching everyone and everything that went on around him.

For the past two weeks, though, Sedet hadn't been quiet because he was observing, but because he was sad. His mother was throwing herself into her paperwork, his father was dealing with the army training, and Nyx was off doing Important Things got the Holy City—as Sedet called it because he didn't really understand what was going on. Even Merasaki hadn't left her father's side since her mother had gone off.

"Lady Sala?" called the tentative voice of a palace servant at the threshold of Sala's door, which was firmly shut.

"Sedet? Will you get that for me?" Sala asked, yet again keeping her eyes trained on her papers. She pushed aside her dark hair and placed it behind her ear.

"Yes, Mommy," Sedet replied and hopped off the stool he had been sitting on. A feeling of being needed had him skipping to the door. He opened it and greeted the tiny servant that stood at the door. "Hello?"

"Young Master," the servant greeted and handed Sedet a large bouquet of flowers, colored a bright yellow. She blushed as Sedet took them. "Lord Gareth sent this to Lady Sala. Will you give them to her?"

"Yes. Thank you." The servant grabbed her thick skirts and curtsied before scurrying down the hall. Sedet shut the door and walked back to his mother.

He held the posy of flowers at arm-length, careful not to inhale them. He was allergic to certain types of flowers and he didn't like such bright, girly colors. He placed them calmly on his mother's desk.

"From Daddy," Sedet answered and Sala glanced up. A humored smile came to her lips as she touched one of the tips of the petals.

"Your Daddy's a sweet man," Sala answered. "I'll give him a big kiss next time I see him." The monarch laughed as Sedet's face blanched in disgust. "You'll get it when you're older, I promise."

As if on cue, Gareth strode into the room, hand in his pocket. He smiled at his wife and son, ruffling Sedet's dark hair and scooping Sala up to kiss her. She laughed weakly and playfully batted away at him.

"Nice flowers," Gareth mumbled against her hair as he lowered his head to inhale the scent of her dark locks.

"Aren't they just?" Sala asked with a huge grin. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, thinking he was just playing with her. "I'll have to thank whoever sent them." With a small smile, she bent down and inhaled the aroma of the flowers.

"I just came to give you these," Gareth went on, pressing some papers onto her desk as Sala examined her flowers. "There's a new break in the south wall of the city and the locals want it fixed. _Now_, apparently. I just had my ear chewed off by their representative. Mean man, that."

"Well, then. You best get to it." Sala placed the flowers on her desk, smiling and stroking their petals.

"After I'm done how about we go down to the gardens, Sedet?" Gareth asked his son with a grin and the small boy nodded. "Good, sport. I'll be back soon."

Leaving his wife and child, Gareth made his way down to the center of the palace, his steps becoming more torpid with each stride. Oh, how he hated delegating. He was not a man meant for negotiations and yet lately he found himself doing it more and more. Gareth was a man meant for battle and wild rides, not sitting patiently and listening to complainants.

But if that was what it took to keep his beloved city in shape then so be it. Gareth would just have to suffer. He took a deep sigh of suffering.

Then a scream broke through the air. Blinking, Gareth took off in a run towards the sound. It led him to the center of the palace, where the black marble shone brightly beneath a glass ceiling.

A young maid lay on the floor, her thick skirts flapped out in front of her. Her face was starkly white and her chest barely moved in a deep breath. Another older maid rushed over to her and bent down. "Agnes?" she cried, touching the girl's shoulder.

Nik ran in, too. He looked at the girl, his eyes growing wide. "What happened here? Why is she on the floor?"

"I want to know that, too," Gareth agreed as he came near all three of them. The older maid stood, trembling slightly and unable to look away from the tiny maid on the floor.

"I don't know, Lord Gareth. Honest I don't. I was walking when I saw Agnes pass out. She's healthy as a yakcow, milord. She's young. This doesn't make any sense." The old woman looked near tears.

Gareth watched as Nik bent down and pressed two fingers to the girl's throat. "There's a pulse. It's weak, but there's a pulse. Get the healers," he ordered the maid. "Tell them she's passed out. Likely from heat stroke, look at the thick wool she's wearing!"

"Before you go," Gareth interjected as the old maid turned to leave. "What was this girl doing before you found her like this?" His head was working to figure out what had happened. If the girl was young then there was no reason for her to pass out. Even with thick wool, the palace wasn't hot enough to warrant heatstroke.

"She was bringin' flowers to Lady Sala, milord," the old maid answered before going down the hallway to fetch the healers.

"Flowers?" Gareth mumbled, his heart hitching in speed.

"Yeah. I heard about them," Nik answered as he picked the tiny maid up into his arms. "Didn't you send them to her? That's what the servants all said."

"No," Gareth answered in a frightened whisper. The maid had passed out in a near-death faint after giving flowers to Sala… which he didn't send… but every one thought he had.

Something was wrong… terribly wrong.

"What…?" Nik's eyes went wide as realization dawned on him. "You _didn't_ send them?"

With a jolt, Gareth remembered Sala bending her lovely, arched neck to inhale the scented petals of the flowers. He remembered her nose being buried in the bright, vivid yellow. Her fingers stroking the petals tenderly.

"Sala!" Gareth abandoned Nik, racing down the hallways back to his wife. Nik called after him to wait, but Gareth hardly listened. When the healers came, Nik handed over the maid and took off after Gareth.

When Gareth reached Sala's office he knew immediately something was wrong. There was a deep, frightened knowledge in his stomach that said he was already too late.

Gasping and choking on rage and fear, Gareth rushed into the room. Instantly, Sedet stood from his spot on the floor and jumped into his father's arms. He pressed his nose into the crock of his father's neck and cried brokenly.

"Mommy—!" Sedet started and then broke off, sobbing.

He placed his son back on the floor, searching Sedet's face for any sign of sickness or faint. "Sedet, did you smell those flowers? Did you, son?" There was a raw, strange fear inside him he had never felt before.

"N—no. I don't like flowers," Sedet answered and hiccupped, choking on his tears. "I held them away."

"Good." Wildly, he pressed kisses to his son's face and held the boy as close to him as he could.

Then he walked over the side of the desk, slowly, his breath hissing out. He was deathly afraid of what he would find.

Sala lay behind her desk, the vase containing her flowers broken. Black dirt covered the floor and tucked into it was a thin, white slip of paper. Gareth ignored it and gathered Sala into his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder.

"Sal?" he whispered, stroking her hair. Sala's eyes fluttered open before they shut again and she lay completely limp in his arms.

Nik rushed into the room, healers dogging his heels. One of the healers gathered a trembling Sedet into their arms and held his palm over the boys' forehead. With a relieved look, the healer said, "The boy is unharmed."

"Sala… Goddess… who the hell did this?" Nik demanded in a whisper. He didn't receive an answer. Gareth's eyes were distant and dark.

Nik noticed the white slip of paper, buried among the dark soil that had housed the plant. With two fingers he picked it up and opened the white, folded letter. "Mother loving… _bastards_…" he whispered in an anger he could barely conceal. Gareth jerked to life and reached out for the letter.

_For the glory of Sage-Harmona._ Was all it said. But it gave Gareth all the answers he needed. They did this. Those assholes. Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi and whoever worked for him. Sala was lying on the floor unconscious because of what they had done.

"Why… why for their fucking city?" he whispered as his fingers tightened over Sala. He stood, his queen in his arm, and handed her to a healer. "Get her to the medical ward as fast you can. Heal her, _please_."

"Yes, sir," the burly healer answered and tenderly took the queen into his arms. "Call ahead to the healers there. Tell them," he ordered his fellow mages.

"Goddess…" Nik whispered suddenly, a sound of realization in his voice. "Gareth… Gareth! We sent Nyx and the others… we sent them _to_ Sage-Harmona. Do you realize—realize what we've done?"

"Yes," Gareth answered and his eyes were just as horrified as they met with Nik's. "Yes. We might have just sent them into a war zone."

--&--

_Sage-Harmona… after so long I'm going home… but I'm not happy about it_.

Nyx kept her eyes trained on the towering walls of the deadly city. Before the walls had offered her protection and comfort. Now, they symbolized her worries, her fears and the possibility of war.

She turned her head to look over her shoulder, at the spies behind her. They were looking at the high walls with apprehension, the same as her. Even from the outside, something was off with the city. It reeked with evil, spewed malicious content onto their skin. It had to be stopped.

"Let's go. The faster we do our job, the sooner we can go home." _I hope Nik can forgive me. I hope Merasaki can forgive me. I'm doing this for them._

"Yes, ma'am," the spies whispered. The sun had just set and each of them wore dark, black cloaks that made them almost invisible in the darkness. Nik motioned them to follow her. One of the reasons she had been chosen for the operation was because of her firsthand knowledge of Sage-Harmona.

And if she remembered correctly…

They hurried around Sage-Harmona about ninety degrees before Nyx ordered a halt. She reached out and touched a large rock that leaned heavily against the thick walls. With a calm push the rock rolled away and revealed a darkened pathway.

"This should lead into the very back of the city. We can comb the rafters from there and sneak into the palace from behind," she told them. No one questioned her. She motioned for them to slip into the hidden pathway.

Once, this had been created as an escape route for the residents if the city managed to be breeched. No one had ever thought such a thing would happen and in time almost everyone forgot about. Nyx, being the planner she was, had always reminded herself of it and its uses. But she had never thought she would be using it _against_ Sage-Harmona.

With a shake of her head, she followed her spies into the dark tunnel. She slid the rock back into place and then called softly ahead of her, "Go straight until you see the light."

The group began to move, silently. Only Nyx's honed hearing enabled to her to know that she wouldn't hit someone if she started walking. The walk took only about ten minutes, but the ten minutes were slow and painful and Nyx's back ached at being hunched over for so long.

_Guess I'm not as young as I used to be,_ she thought ruefully as she rubbed the spot on her neck that ached.

Finally, they reached the inside of the city. Nyx resisted the urge to gasp. Her home was nothing like her home anymore. It was destroyed, blackened, in ruins.

The once proud city of Sage-Harmona was in turmoil. The houses of the citizens were in decay and the streets were falling apart, the cobbles peeling away from the ground. There were no lights in the city and the houses were dark. And what was worse was the perverse, frightening silence that was everywhere.

For a moment, Nyx didn't dare move. Her eyes took in every inch of the city, the decay and ruin, before they landed on the palace. The regal, tall palace was a looming sight now. Foreboding and menacing. What had once stood for protection and strength now meant only tyranny and evil.

"Blend in with the shadows," Nyx murmured. "Don't let yourselves be seen. Climb the rafters," she pointed to the wooden beams that lead to the roofs of the houses. "And find somewhere to rest. Our mission starts tomorrow."

As the spies obeyed Nyx's orders she took one more glance at the palace. She remembered being awe-inspired by it. But now it only looked like the enemy.

She prayed that some immortal was watching and protecting the Holy City because it looked as if they would need it.

--&--

"It's a disease I've never seen before, Lord Gareth," the chief healer, a wizen old man, said as they both looked down upon Sala. "From what I can tell it's a poison that puts its victim into a deep coma. Whether it's deadly or not I cannot tell."

"So you're saying she might die or she might not die?" Gareth asked and felt tears prickle his eyes. Sala looked so vulnerable lying on the small hospital bed. His hand fisted above her cheek. "What am I supposed to do? Stand here and wait?"

Sedet was staring at his mother as well. He pressed his head into his father's leg and fought tears. The healers had recently looked at him and pronounced him completely healthy. The poison hadn't touched the boy because he had held it so far away from him when he had accepted it from the servant girl.

"I know what poison she has," Nik said as he came into the room. He face was taut with determination. "When I was in school back in the Sage-Harmona army we heard about it. Before I was even born, Sage-Harmona had a long series of skirmishes with the desert people. In order to fight them, the scientists created a poison that could be hidden away, in blankets, food, and even flowers. For a long time, the desert people just kept on dying. But then they created a cure and the fighting stopped."

"A cure…" Gareth reached out and gripped Nik's arm tightly. "Would they still have it? Would there still be a way to save Sala?"

"They should," Nik answered. "But Gareth… they probably won't tell you. They don't like city dwellers, Sage-Harmona residents or no."

"I'll have to make them tell me," Gareth said, his voice strained with emotion. "What choice do I have? I won't stand back and let Sala die when there's a chance I can save her."

With a small sigh, Nik replied, "Find a man named Venneron, son of Alta. He's probably about twenty-nine right now. Looks a little like me, but with black hair. He's my half-brother. Mention my name and he'll help you."

"I—I… didn't know you had a brother," Gareth muttered and stared at Nik. He realized there were a lot of things about Nik he didn't know. But right now that didn't matter. Only one thing did.

"I don't like to talk about it," Nik answered. "Find him. Go to Donna-Rune, the nomad city, he's probably there."

Gareth nodded and turned towards the door. Sedet followed him, gripping his hand but unable to find his voice. Nik kept pace with him.

"Nik, you're in charge until I get back, alright? If anyone asks, tell them we're having… I don't know… a meeting with Haven City or something. Don't let anyone know about what happened to Sala." Gareth looked over at Nik.

"Alright. I know I can't change your mind. And I wouldn't try. Just be careful." Nik gave Gareth a brotherly pat on the back. "Everything will be just as you left it."

"I hope so," Gareth muttered and bent down to his son. The young boy was near tears. "No crying, alright? I need you to make sure Nik doesn't screw up too bad. I need you to be a big, strong boy."

Sedet wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, sniffling. "Yes, Daddy. I'll be… be… a good boy…" Then he wrapped his arms around his father's neck and sobbed into his shoulder.

Gareth rubbed his son's small back. "I need you to watch over your mother, alright? Talk to her and tell her that I'm going to come back and heal her."

"Y—yes."

"That's my boy." Gareth pulled away from his son and, with his thumb, brushed away a tear that fell from his cheek. "I'm coming back, Sedet. I promise. I'll come back and make your mother better."

"I know you will, Daddy." Sedet bit his lip when Gareth pressed a shaky kiss to his forehead.

"I'll miss you, son. I will. I'll miss you every day that I'm gone and I love you. I love you lots." Gareth stood and ruffled Sedet's dark head. "Be good until I get back."

"I love you, Daddy," was what Sedet answered.

--&--

Once the smoke had died and the Metal Heads were gone, Ashlin Praxis went searching for survivors. She and Torn split up and decided to meet in the center of the ruined city.

Now Ashlin, with about two hundred survivors, stood staring at the rubble that had once been her beloved city. But the destruction didn't even faze her. Her eyes sparkled with tears, but not because the city she had sacrificed so much for was destroyed.

They couldn't find Ryu.

Her son, her blood, flesh of her flesh, was nowhere to be found. She had searched for hours, among the rubble, the dead bodies, and the survivors. She had found no sign of her son and with every moment he was _not_ with her it felt as if her heart broke more and more.

Torn came up to her, his group of a hundred behind him. He touched her shoulders and Ashlin turned into his arms, not crying but broken enough so that it didn't matter. "I couldn't find Ryu…" he said dejectedly and there was a dead, hollow look in his eyes that said everything that needed to be said about Torn at that moment.

All he could remember were the last words Torn had said to his son. The disappointment, the rage, the anger. He hadn't meant any of it, but he had been angry in that moment and that was the last moment he had seen his son and it was a bitter truth that soured Torn's throat.

"_Maybe one day… maybe one day you'll forgive me, respect me even. I hope."_

The sad, sad truth was that Torn always respected Ryu. Always had and always would. Because Ryu knew what he had wanted and he had stood firm on that. He hadn't let anyone change his mind. When Torn was younger he hadn't let himself even consider what hobbies or passions he had. They had been in a war, he hadn't had time for such things. Torn molded himself to love fighting and guns and had pushed any inkling of any other passion away from his mind.

"Ryu's a resourceful boy, Ash," Torn told her even as his throat tightened. All he could think about was Ryu, buried under rubble, _suffocating_ to death. Or Ryu consumed in flames, _crying_ out for his father. "I'm sure he's okay. He probably… he probably got out and ran… ran to safety…" But that didn't sound like Ryu. Ryu would have stayed, would have gone into the city, and helped other people escape.

"Maelia's missing too," Tess said as she came up from the crowd. Daxter stood next to her, but his head was bowed and his skin weak in pallor.

"They're probably together then," Ashlin guessed on a wild spur of hope. "What about Keira? And Aithne? And Samos and Sig?"

Torn shook his head and answered, "We couldn't get in. Rubble had closed off the entrances and we had injured people so we couldn't risk it."

"Don't worry. Everyone got out," said a voice. Sig, with his head bleeding, moved towards the group. "I just came back to let ya know what happened. Your son's fine. I was only half-conscious at the time, but I heard 'em talking. Took my Peacemaker, your son did. Lucky, I had a spare." He hefted his blaster gun then jerked his chin toward Daxter. "Daughter's with him, too. Same as Aithne. Someone's helping them go after Keira."

Ashlin noticed that strapped to Sig's back were the weapons Keira and Jak had once fought with. The glaive and the sword. But she was too tired and too worried to ask him about it.

"Of course Mae-Mae's fine," Daxter murmured, keeping his head bowed. He was frowning, frowning deeply. "There's nothing wrong with her. Why shouldn't she be fine? There's absolutely nothing wrong with her."

"What happened to Keira?" Ashlin demanded, Daxter's half-insane mumblings falling on deaf ears. They had gotten used to his aloofness over the years.

"Some girl… just came and—and _took_ her. She was working with the Metal Heads. God… she had to be younger than Aithne." Sig's face darkened. "We were attacked by this nasty Metal Head. One of the biggest I'd ever seen. They killed—damnit—they _killed _Samos. He's dead. And they took Keira. I don't know, but Aithne and the others went after her."

"This was planned then," Torn muttered as his fist clenched at his side. "It was _planned_. Some bastard got the Metal Heads to attack the city and that girl kidnapped Keira. Something's wrong, something is going on."

"What are we going to do?" Tess asked in fear as she reached out and clutched Daxter's arm. The man brought her into his arms, but he seemed distant, far away.

"Go to the Holy City," Ashlin suggested and nodded to herself. "Keira's from there. I'm… _sure_ they'll help us. We're allies."

"I hope so, too, Ashlin," Torn admitted and touched her hand. Ashlin grasped it. He knew the doubts were there. What happened if the Holy City had planned the attack? No one wanted to believe that, but it was a possibility.

"Alright everyone. You heard 'em! Get ready for some walkin'!" Sig barked and one by one, the people assembled for the journey to the Holy City.

--&--

The first mission Nyx had was a simple one. Reconnaissance. She and two of her spies snuck into the palace to take notes on the duties of servants and the routines of the palace officials. It was tedious work but necessary. A plan would be formed on the information.

It wasn't hard to get into the palace. The large, wide doors were opened every night and every day as people went in and out of the palace. Nyx and her spies slipped in among them and followed them down the hallways, taking careful note of every twist and turn. Then they veered off, seeping down into the unauthorized areas.

After hours of searching and avoiding soldiers, Nyx and her spies found themselves walking down long, steep stairs that lead to a darkened room. Even Nyx's trained eyes couldn't make anything out.

"Find a light," she ordered and listened as a fellow spy groped along the walls. The switch was found and a dim, yellow light sparked to life.

A gasp went through their group. They stood side by side and stared up at the glass window before them, staring at the scene before them. A million thoughts raced in their heads at the same time. Was it possible? How was it possible? Why? Who could do such a thing?

"Goddess…" Nyx gasped as she stared at the image before her, her stomach tilting and her retinas memorizing each horrifying detail that would haunt her until the end of her days.

Bodies… hundreds of them. Spread out on narrow, silver tables behind the thick, glass window. Hanging on walls by nails. They were young and vigor, male and female. They were naked and some were cut open. Machines pumped their blood and monitors tracked their heart rates and a large computer in the very back placed poison into their veins. It was a gruesome, bloody sight.

Nyx pushed open the door at the end of the glass window and entered the room. The smell of death and rotting flesh burned her nose. She didn't gag but she felt the twist of it in her stomach. She didn't dare touch the bodies, though her fingers itched to do so. Itched to yank them down and bury them.

But if they were dead—if the hundreds of them were dead inside the room—that meant that there was something terrible going on. Something _bad_. What could all these bodies be used for?

"Commander Nyx," one of the spies called, a young woman with a fearful tone. "Over here." She stood at a large, silver computer.

"Sage-Harmona doesn't have computers…" Nyx mumbled and strode over to it. She tapped at the red keys on the board and information scrolled down the screen, after a few moments she said. "Stop. There."

It was plain words on a black screen. But for some reason it got Nyx's attention. It read, simply, _Operation: Glory Mode_.

She clicked on it and the information came on the screen. A gasp choked in her throat as she read what they were doing, _doing_, to these people. They weren't dead. They weren't dead, but perhaps it would have been better if they were.

"Goddess help us…" Nyx finally managed to say moments before a sound reached them.

"I saw them!" a voice snapped as feet pounded above them. "Intruders! This time I'm sure of it!"

"You're always sure of it. You had better be right or you're in solitary confinement for a _week_," a voice answered in a tight, military tone.

Nyx and her spies glanced at each other. She made a motion for them to move. They had to get out of here. _Now_. Something terrible was going on and she had no doubt that if they were caught they would be killed instantly or worse, added to the collection bodies.

They slipped out of the room and up into the palace. The spies molded into the shadows with Nyx bringing up the rear. She kept her eyes opened and her ears honed. They needed to be ready to run if they were found out.

The open doors were in front of them, but a platoon of soldiers were streaming in. Nyx ordered her spies softly and they changed directions, slipping forward into a corridor to the left of the main entrance.

As swiftly and quietly as they could they moved down the hall. Nyx's head was reeling. They _had_ to get out, but they also _had_ to stay hidden. She didn't know of any other way out except the main door. What were they going to do?

Then something worse happened. They went into a room. And not just any room. They went into the _throne_ room.

_Oh Goddess no…_ Nyx thought in defeat. This was it. They were trapped. They were going to die. All sorts of horrible torture danced in Nyx's head, mocking her.

_Should've stayed home like Nik wanted you to… now you're gonna die and Merasaki's not going to have a mother…_

There was a pounding at the door and the spies began to tremble in terror. Their eyes were wide. They would die, yes, but they knew the secrets of the Holy City would be kept. They were trained to endure pain.

Suddenly there was a hand gripping Nyx's arm and, with her world spinning and her vision blinded, she felt herself being dragged towards the throne. She thought about struggling against it, but she was too tired to do so.

"Go, take this passage and leave," a voice said into her ear. Nyx titled her head to the right and narrowed her vision until her eyes focused.

It was a man, over a decade younger than herself. He towered over her and his face—handsome with sharp planes and angles, high cheek bones, a slightly bent nose and eyes that were almost black—was grim.

Nyx realized she and the man were the only two people still in the throne room. He had pushed aside the throne and revealed a dark chamber that was deep and long.

"Wh—who are you?" she heard herself question as the man helped her lower herself into the secret passage way. "What is your name?"

"I'm General Yao," the man answered as he handed her sword to her. _It must have fallen off_, she thought dizzily. "General Tage Yao. Report to the Holy City. Tell them what's going on."

She opened her mouth to say thank you but the throne slid over her head. She leaned against the cold, damp wall of the tunnel the throne had been concealing. The walls were jagged and rock-formed and it was pleasant and relaxing to lean against them.

"No one's here. You were wrong again, soldier," she heard General Tage Yao say above her. "Report to solitary confinement immediately."

_That's where I heard him from_, Nyx thought weakly. _From that room. He was the man talking to the soldiers… General Tage Yao…_

When the sounds above the small tunnel quieted, Nyx turned and made her way down the rocky path. Her spies were waiting for her and they were on edge. Their eyes looked to her, their leader. They had questions.

"I think we might have an ally in Sage-Harmona," she murmured.

--&--

The Holy City shone like a beacon for the survivors of Haven City. They were ragged, weary, and mourning. Their city, their beautiful city, was destroyed. There was nothing left for them but to continue living and avenge their fallen homes and comrades.

Torn and Ashlin led the pack, Daxter, Tess, and Sig not far behind. Ashlin had a defeated, worried look on her face and Torn was stiff enough to have wood broken against his back. Daxter was, as always, aloof and distant from everything around him. Tess's eyes were dried, but her cheeks were caked with her tears.

From the high towers of the Holy City the word was spread that a large group of people were heading their way. The news reached their temporary commander-in-chief quickly and he gathered his elite group of fighters and went out to meet them.

The two groups met about a mile away from the Holy City. Nikolas Mandrake raised a hand and signaled the archers perched on the Holy City walls and towers to wait until he gave the signal to fire.

"Who are you?" he demanded, sharply. He had a hand on his short Spartan. His face was friendly, but his eyes were hot and dark.

"I'm Torn, commander-in-chief of the Krimzon Guard of Haven City," Torn answered in his customary, curt military tone.

"Haven City?" Nik asked as his eyes widened for a split second. "I—I heard from one of the Holy City merchants that it was under attack. They returned only a day ago. Are you the survivors?"

"Yes. Most of the Krimzon Guard were killed in the attack. The few soldiers that remain are behind us," Ashlin answered, her voice having gained back its strength and zeal. "I'm Ashlin Praxis. The governor of Haven City."

"Isn't Lady Keira Kinover in Haven City?" Nik asked. "I've heard a few stories about her and I heard she, and her family, were in your city."

Torn's face darkened at the memory. Sig came up, feeling that it should be his duty as he was the one to witness it. "She was taken by Metal Heads, cherry. We don't know where and we don't know why. But I saw her get kidnapped."

"Sage-Harmona…" Nik growled, his fingers clenching into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss. Sage-Harmona is the cause of all this, I'm afraid. They've been on a mad quest for power for a long time, but only recently has it erupted into violence."

"That means," Ashlin concluded, her hot green eyes widening, "Sage-Harmona has just declared war on all of us." Nik nodded to her and Ashlin's jaw tightened. "We need to speak to your leaders, Gareth and Sala. Whatever forces we have, they're all at your service. We must band together."

"I agree with you," Nik answered but his eyes took on a dark, sad look. "But there… there is a problem. Come with me and I'll explain _everything_ to you."

--&--

Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi galloped on his desert-trained horse ahead of his troops. These were not composed of the Experiments, but were average soldiers from Sage-Harmona. He didn't wish to show his trump card to the Holy City just yet. If the Holy City didn't surrender—and Hirmoyarbeshi was almost wishing they wouldn't—he would have the Girl bring the Experiments to him.

A grin, a deeply malicious grin, crossed his handsome features. Yes, this was the only thing that stood in his way. Soon, the world would bow down to Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi and the glory of Sage-Harmona! It would be as it had been before. Sage-Harmona the center of _everything_, life, commerce, power.

The high towers of the Holy City came into Hirmoyarbeshi's view. He ordered in a tight voice for his soldiers to quicken their pace. He wanted this done as soon as possible.

This was his dream, finally after years and years of waiting, he would be able to put Sage-Harmona in its rightful place. He would rule it as it should be. There would be no longer be three cities vying for power, there would be only Sage-Harmona, the villages around it, and the odd desert caravans.

As a little boy, he had grown up in the wealthy upper class of Sage-Harmona. He had been disgusted with them, with their ways, and had joined the army as quickly as possible. His solution to the desert tribes and the war with the Phoenix had earned him ranks and titles and his campaigns against Eris had made him the city's hero.

He had loved the prestige and glamour. He loved people smiling at him in awe. When he had awakened to find Sage-Harmona's power in the world slipping, and the royal family doing nothing about it, he had lost his purpose. His entire life had been about the power of Sage-Harmona, and keeping it.

The royal family of Sage-Harmona had truly disgusted him. Before, he had respected and loved the Yoshimoro family. But when he had found out that they were willing to simply stand there and let Sage-Harmona's power and glory die, his respect and love had turned to hate. He killed each one of them without mercy, the king to the queen to the sister to the little boy heir. It had been necessary so Sage-Harmona could continue to rule over everything else.

"We've come," said the general at his side and Hirmoyarbeshi saw that his musings had taken up the ride to the Holy City.

"Dismount," he ordered to the general and both of them hit the sand. Hirmoyarbeshi wished it was General Yao who stood beside him—the young boy had so much potential and vigor, it reminded him of himself—but the Mage had ordered the young, famous general to remain in the city.

_I don't like that old man, there's something wrong about him_, Hirmoyarbeshi thought. He didn't know where the Mage came from, or why he was so willing to help Hirmoyarbeshi, but he had needed someone to support him, and the Mage's power and knowledge had proved to be more than helpful in his conquest of the world.

A man and a woman awaited him, standing in front of the Holy City. One of Hirmoyarbeshi's eyebrows went up, way up. He recognized Nikholas Mandrake. The man had once been a famous warrior for Sage-Harmona. He had even been reported alive and well before disappearing three years after Sage-Harmona had reappeared in the world and most thought he had died.

Well, he certainly wasn't dead. "Commander Mandrake? I was under the impression you were dead," Hirmoyarbeshi said as he approached the two.

"My family is in the Holy City," Nik said tightly, his hand resting on his sword. It was light, his grip, but Hirmoyarbeshi had the ability to sense the underlying emotions. And Nik's body spoke of being more than ready to fight him.

Hirmoyarbeshi smiled at Nik as if to say there would be more than enough time for that later. Then his attention turned to the redhead at his side. "And you are, my dear?"

"Ashlin Praxis," she all but growled at him, a muscle in her clenching in anger. "Governor of Haven City."

There was surprise, deep down inside, but it did not show on Hirmoyarbeshi's face. He hadn't given explicit orders on the death of the ruling family of Haven City, but he had assumed they would fall with the city. It either meant this woman was a hero or a coward. Hirmoyarbeshi respected the former and hated the later.

Time would show which Ashlin Praxis was.

"You had something to do with the attack on my city. I know you did," Ashlin hissed out. She had told herself to be diplomatic and casual but she couldn't do that when the man who had been the reason why so many of her people had died stood right before her. It wasn't her nature.

"You have me there," Hirmoyarbeshi said with a casual shrug. "Of course, I had no orders that your people had to die. Only that the city had to fall."

"You bastard," Ashlin snarl, her fingers shaking with rage. She resisted the urge to raise her hand and tell Torn to open fire. He and the Krimzon Guard waited behind the Holy City's protective walls, ready to fight, in case something went wrong and Ashlin needed back up.

"And how is the ruler of the Holy City?" Hirmoyarbeshi asked, smiling over at Nik. "I hope she is not _too_ unwell."

Nik's fingers tightening visibly over his sword, but other than that there was no change in his features. "State your purpose, _General_ Hirmoyarbeshi."

"Well, since you are aware of what I've been doing for over a decade you can guess." Hirmoyarbeshi's eyes drifted to the towering walls and spiraling towers of the Holy City. "I suggest you surrender. Everyone inside will be spared. You, of course, will be imprisoned for a time… but only for a time…"

"The Holy City will do no such thing," Nik growled. _I hope this is what you would do, Gareth. I won't surrender this city to him._

Hirmoyarbeshi sighed, as if the news pained him greatly. Then, with no real malice but also no real sadness, he said, "Then no one in the Holy City will be spared. All of you will fall upon the swords of my army. You'll be made examples of what happens when you disobey the orders of Sage-Harmona, I will have this city one way or another."

"You can try," Ashlin replied sharply, her chin coming up. "But we'll fight you to the death. The Holy City, and the Haven people, will be remembered as heroes, rebels dying for their cause."

"Either way I win," Hirmoyarbeshi replied with a shrug. "You have a week to change your mind. After that, I storm the city. You're a soldier, Commander Mandrake. But now you're a leader. Think about your people."

"I am," Nik shot back.

Hirmoyarbeshi mounted his horse with his general and commander. They galloped away, kicking up sand, as Ashlin and Nik stared after.

"We can't beat him," Ashlin muttered, her voice laden with defeat.

"I know."

--&--

Torn watched Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi walk away from Ashlin and Nik. Then he watched the two make their way back to the Holy City. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He lowered his gun and Daxter, who lay flat on his stomach beside him, did as well. They had a small post on the thin walls of the Holy City. It gave them a bird's eye view of the meeting between Hirmoyarbeshi and his wife.

If anything had been attempted, Torn would have blown Hirmoyarbeshi's brains out. He wished he had anyway. The grim look Torn spotted marring Ashlin's face through his sniper scope made his blood boil.

"C'mon," he muttered to Daxter, not bothering to glance at the man. "Let's get down."

Daxter nodded and followed Torn down the ladder. He had grown even quieter during their short stay at the Holy City. His face had become more withdrawn and the lines that had begun to show around his mouth and eyes seemed deeper, etched from years of depression and grief.

"Daxter!" Tess said, coming up and gripping Daxter's arm. Her bright blue eyes were sad, but it was nothing new. Tess always looked sad. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Daxter answered and managed a smile for Tess. For some reason it almost made him look worse. It was easy to tell he was faking it. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Tess chewed her lip and Torn knew she was thinking about stepping back, giving Daxter space. Torn wanted to tell her that was the problem. She had been so afraid of hurting Daxter that she had never considered forcing Daxter to overcome his grief and so Daxter had wallowed in it.

"What about Maelia? Aren't you worried about her?"

"Why should I be? She's fine."

Her eyes widened and it was almost as if she was snapping out of a trance. As if she was finally realizing what had been going on with her husband for seventeen years. Daxter had been in denial for so long, he wasn't even aware of Maelia's impending danger. He didn't want to so he just pretended nothing was wrong with her.

"Daxter—"

Torn didn't want to listen to it anymore. He found Nik, talking with one of his soldiers and approached the younger boy. Nik broke off his conversation as Torn neared and nodded sharply to him.

"I don't know if coming here was a good idea," Nik muttered. "Looks like Hirmoyarbeshi has it in for this city as well. _Damnit_! I respected him once. He was a general in Sage-Harmona. I didn't think the army there could do anything wrong."

He respected the man even if he didn't know him. Nik proved to be a confident and wise military leader, even if he didn't know the first thing about ruling a city. Luckily, Ashlin had a few pointers to give to the younger man.

"What's really wrong?" Torn asked. He didn't know Nik but he could see the worry underlying the rage and army cool. "I can tell."

"My wife," Nik answered on a shallow gasp. He ran his fingers roughly through his crimson hair. "She was sent to Sage-Harmona as a spy before we knew… knew what they were planning. And we haven't had word from them since."

When the man lowered his head, Torn frowned. He could relate, he supposed. He didn't know where his son was, or if he was even alive. He could have very well died in the wreckage of Haven—

_No. I would have felt it. I would have known if something had happened to Ryu._ At least, he hoped so. All he could do was hope. It made him feel so helpless. He had never felt so helpless before. Before he had always found some tangible thing to fight, some Metal Heads to destroy, Harpies to kill… no he was grappling at empty air, fighting an enemy that, for the first time, had an upper hand on him.

"I'm sorry," Torn told Nik, hesitating and then rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "I hope she finds her way home."

"Yeah, me too. I have to tell her how sorry I am."

"Do you know where Ashlin is?"

"I think she said something about going to lie down. Hirmoyarbeshi insulted her something fierce," Nik replied and rubbed his temples. "I respect her, though. She didn't even bother to pretend to like Hirmoyarbeshi like I did."

"Well, Ashlin's never been one to cover up her real emotions," Torn answered and turned from the man.

"Daddy!" a little girl cried and rushed toward Nik as Torn walked away. He paused to watch as Nik scooped the little girl up in his arms. All fatigue on Nik's face was gone and he smiled into his daughter's eyes.

Did he ever pick Ryu up like that? Torn didn't think he did. Once, when Ryu had only been four or five, he had reached up for his father with chubby arms, begging for a sign of affection. Torn had backed away and let Ashlin take over, letting the woman cuddle the boy. Torn hadn't known how to show his love for his son. With Ashlin it could be shown in kisses and embraces. But how could he tell his son he loved him without saying the words?

When he entered the palace of the Holy City he noticed a gawky little boy resting against the wall, cast in the shadows. He was curled up and stared at the light that bounced off the bright, marble floors.

Since he had been there, Sedet of Luxhine and Rye hadn't moved far from his mothers' side. He didn't leave the palace. His thin face was now—too thin. The boy hadn't been pretty to begin with but his face now bordered on ugly. Torn supposed that was because Sedet had the lines and the bones of a man, while his face was still shaped like a child. In time, he guessed, Sedet would come into his body and become a handsome man indeed.

Now he just looked sad, lonely, and withdrawn.

He wanted to offer some words of comfort to the boy but Torn was yet again hindered by his lack of social skills. He didn't know how to offer the boy soothing warmth. He had never received it and he had never been taught how to give it.

There was a giant wall between the soldier and man in Torn, and no matter how much the two sides clawed at the bricks, the wall never crumbled.

So he left the boy there and went after Ashlin. They had been put in the West Wing, where Gareth and Sala would have slept. Nik and his daughter still slept in the soldiers' barracks, as would his wife if she had been there.

He found her curled up on the thick bed in the room they had been given to rest in. Her red dreadlocks were the only thing visible as she had wrapped herself up in a white, lacy bedspread and had her head buried in a pillow.

For a moment he stood at the threshold, looking down at his wife. Her tears and sobs were muffled against the pillow. Torn had seen Ashlin cry before, but the tears were rare and, after all that happened in the last two days, he didn't have the energy to deal with all the pain and grief his wife had kept bottled up inside.

But Ashlin was his wife and every tear she shed was like a stake being driven into his heart. He walked over to her and sat down, placing a hand on the small of her back. Ashlin shifted and sat up to face him.

Her pretty, Amazon face was pale and tracked with tears, her red lips paling. "I—I've never felt this way before. I think… I think we're going to lose this war."

Without thinking, Torn brought her into his arms. She went into them, burying her face in his shoulder, grasping his neck. Torn stroked her back lovingly, kissing her cheeks and her neck, trying to soothe her without words.

"What are we going to do? We've lost so much already, Torn." Ashlin withdrew from him and looked into his eyes, searching for answers that weren't there. "Have—Haven City. Our people. Ry—Ryu."

"Everything will turn out fine. Ryu's… Ryu's fine," Torn grounded out, forcing himself to lie. He didn't know if Ryu was alright or not. But he couldn't tell Ashlin that. "We'll win this, Ashlin. And we will rebuild. That's what we do, Ashlin. We rebuild."

"What would I do without you?" Ashlin asked and kissed him passionately. Torn returned it until he felt Ashlin's body give way to her exhaustion. He parted from her. "I wish… I wish Jak was here… he'd probably just shoot them all…" She smiled dreamily before completely passing out.

Torn touched her hair as he settled down beside her. His arms came up and wrapped around her waist, dragging her lithe body closer.

"I wish he was here, too."

* * *

**notes:** did you see Jak? If you blink you might miss him so be careful! Don't kill me! I know I said Jak and he's there… just not a whole lot. Er… but I _promise_ this entire act is about him… and Keira… and war… and stuff…

**Act XIV:** Crea returns, Venn does too, someone turns out to be not-so-evil and more Jak… because… well… _Jak_.

**Reviews**

**Specter Von Baron:** aw, but I _like_ you when you review! You're awesome. And I mean that!

**GundamWingFanatic90:** Jak is back! But we're kinda… _easing_ into the whole Jak-back-ness. After all, can't get _to_ excited. Don't want to explode, right? hehe. Also, I early await fanart (I'm giddy with excitement)

**Xazz:** I hope this sates your Jak-lust. More next chapter, promise!

**Carree:** hehe, Roid's not mine. He belongs to Specter Von Baron. XD

**jaklover123:** I usually, at times like this, fall back onto an interview JKR gave right before the publication of the fifth book. She didn't want to kill Sirius off. She _had_ to. Enter: my reason.

**Teh Kitsune:** I love how you pick up undertones. I won't reveal anything (_anything_) but you do seem to pick some clues up. Good for you! And for the pronunciation of Cyren. I'm sure the experts will tell you this is wrong but I've always pronounced it like this. **Kī-r-in**.


	14. Traitor to the Cause

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Jak II or the series

**AN:** summer vacation here I come! w00t! That means I can focus on writing and no school work. Although… I do have that stupid summer assignment on Oedipus Rex to do. But later! For now, writing!

**Warnings:** none

EDIT: thanks to Specter Von Baron for slapping some sense into me. Metal Head Scouts have wings! That means Roid has wings! Don't ask. Just go with it.

* * *

**Act XIV: Traitor to the Cause **

"We have to go to Sage-Harmona," she said.

He glanced at her, her back flat against the rock. Sand whipped at her golden hair, going to her waist in a narrow line. Her eyes were shaded by her hand as they watched the approach of the oncoming sand storm.

"Why?" he asked, reaching out to lay a hand against her flat stomach. Subtly she moved away. She had learned how to put space between them without making it look like she was purposely doing it.

And he had learned how to notice it without letting her know it. But he had always learned not to push her. There was a darkness in her, and every time it threatened to surface it was almost as if she would be destroyed by it. So he didn't raise the question, didn't mention her aloofness, because he didn't want her to surrender to the darkness.

"Something…" she said with a frown, thinking about it. "Something bad is happening there."

"Isn't there always?"

"Something really bad. I _feel_ it. Someone important is in trouble." She sat up, looking in the direction of the large city. It wasn't even visible on the horizon. "We need to go there. We might be needed."

He looked at her, trying to make it seem like he wasn't. The innocence in her eyes was gone, the blue of her irises darkening to cobalt. She was lean and tall, a willowy figure of beauty and death.

She wore a tight black belly shirt and tight black shorts. A waist-length white vest flapped against her sides, opened to the breeze, and her shorts were nearly completely covered by a thick belt stubbed with silver squares. Boots hung off her thin ankles and she wore black fingerless gloves. A red ribbon was tied around her wrist and flapped down to her thighs and a small cap covered the top of her golden head.

Without warning she stood, towering over him. She was an inch over six feet and was the tallest women in the caravan. He had about two inches on her when she had her boots on but her imposing nature always made them seem of equal stature.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he stood as well. His black duster flapped in the wind, leather slapping against his ankles. He wore baggy black pants that were held to his thin body by a green belt with pockets on it, the bottoms of the pants tucked into his commando boots. He wore a tight, white shirt that stretched across the muscles on his chest. His muscles were small enough for his body type to still be considered trim, but there was no doubting his strength or power.

"Yes," she replied. For the past nine years she had never been anything _but_ sure of herself. She was cold, uncaring, and unkind, but she was sure of herself. It seemed to him that she _had_ to be sure of herself because if she wasn't then she wouldn't have anything else.

That was all he needed. He reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Alright, we'll go." She jerked away, not even bothering to do it subtly. He raised his hands in reassurance. "Sorry. Forget it."

She hated to be touched, touched by anyone. By him especially. Whenever he got close her entire body stiffened and her eyes darkened with fear and hate. He didn't understand why. He had never been anything but caring toward her. It had happened when she had been no more then fourteen, her withdrawal from him.

He knew it might be easier for them both if he just backed off, left her alone. But he couldn't. Something inside wouldn't let him. He had loved the girl for almost his entire life—all the important parts anyway.

Even if she was cold to him, he was almost sure there was a part of her that was begging him not to give up on her. To find the goodness that was buried deep inside and unlock it. She had changed but he still loved her and he was sure in due time he could convince her that she loved him too.

And he loved her. Loved her because she was the girl he was meant to love. It was more than the will of the gods. He had mated himself to the girl the moment he found her in the sands over a thousand years ago. He had been destined to find her and he had willingly gone into love.

"You don't have to come with me, you know," she replied with a jerk of her shoulder.

With a laugh he wanted to touch her shoulder in reassurance, but knew she wouldn't appreciate it. So instead he answered, "I would follow you to the ends of the earth. In fact I think I have. Twice. You know that."

For a long moment she said nothing, then she gave him a sidelong glance, and started to run back to their caravan. "We should prepare to go."

He sighed and his arms hung limply from his side. Patience. He was a patient man. He could wait for her.

Venn lifted his head and watched as Crea disappeared into the wooden wagons and white tents. Of course, he would wait for Crea. He'd waited this long already. What were a few more years?

Eventually she'd come around.

He hoped.

--&--

Aithne's feet were aching, but she didn't complain. All she could think about was her mother. Who knew how rough her mother had it? She could be tortured or chained up and frightened. It didn't seem right for Aithne to complain about sore feet when her mother could be _dying_ right now.

She bit her lip to resist the urge to scream. The image of Keira, blood and tears dripping from her eyes and over her cheeks, screaming out in pain was burned into her vision.

"Hey," Cyren said softly, coming up to touch her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I was… just thinking about… my mother," Aithne admitted and felt a small tremble in her spine. "I can't help but wonder… what she's going through. I worry that—well… maybe she's hurt, o—or worse. De—de—" She couldn't get the word out. Her mouth, her mind, her _heart_ wouldn't let her say it.

"Miss Keira's the strongest woman I know—other than you, of course. I'm sure she's fine, Aithne," Cyren replied with a tender smile.

She nodded and almost blinked in surprise at the burning of her cheeks. This was new. Since when had Cyren ever been able to make her blush? All her life she'd never blushed around him, in fact she'd hardly blushed at all. He'd always been her best friend, her brother-in-arms, but now… now she couldn't think of him like that.

When she was sure he wasn't looking she stole a glance at him. For the first time in her life she realized Cyren was handsome. Very handsome. Tall, much taller than her, and lean. His blonde hair and dark eyes give him an odd mixture of innocence and danger. How had she missed that before? How had she missed his handsomeness and innocence and dark beauty?

It didn't make sense. Aithne didn't want to think about Cyren like that. And yet… yet she _did_ want to think about him. It gave her warm butterflies in the pit of her stomach to think about Cyren, aware of his masculinity.

And she couldn't seem to stop thinking about the kiss. The feel of his lips sliding against hers. It had felt so… _right_. He had been so strong and powerful and her body had reacted in ways she had never thought it would.

But she shouldn't be thinking about Cyren this way. It was _Cyren_! Her best friend, the one who stood by her. What happened if she… if she was in lo—

_No._ _I'm not. Am I? I can't be. Not with Cyren._ Aithne's hands clenched into fists beside her. _I won't let myself be in love. I won't let it destroy me like it did my mother._ She thought of Keira and all the pain and the tears that had burdened her over the years. That would never happen to her. Aithne would make sure of it.

Even if she was attracted to him she wouldn't act on it. She lo—respected—Cyren too much to let her emotions destroy their friendship. She needed to be calm and quiet about her new attraction. No one but she could know about it.

"Are we there yet?" Maelia demanded as she touched Roid's arm. The Metal Head sent her a look.

It almost made her smirk. Maelia was such a bouncer. It was easy for her to forgive and forget. Not more than five hours ago Metal Heads were her sworn enemy and she bitterly fought them. And now she was smiling at one.

Roid, walking on all fours, turned his attention to the sands that rolled in the wind ahead of them. "We will not make it there before nightfall. We will have to camp. It is dangerous in the desert at night."

"Are you sure?" Ryu demanded, not as forgiving as Maelia. In fact, he kept a death grip on Sig's Peacemaker. "Metal Head, isn't there—"

His entire flank tightened. Roid stood up and faced Ryu with a dark look. The young man jumped back, Peacemaker ready to fire. "My name is Roid, _human_. Address me as thus." It sounded as if he was struggling to keep his anger in check.

"Ryu!" Maelia said and placed her hands on her hips, sending him an angry glare. "Stop being a jackass."

"Well I'm sorry!" Ryu replied in annoyance. "You all may be able to forget that he was once the enemy of Haven City, but I can't! How do we know we can trust him? How do we know he's not an enemy? What happens if he slits our throats in the night?"

"Ryu!" Maelia cried, insulted.

The young man's face reddened in embarrassment and maybe jealousy, but he wouldn't back down. "Think about it. He's a Metal Head. How do we know he's being truthful? What happens if it's a big lie?"

"You're right," Aithne said suddenly, attention turning to him. She looked at Roid directly. "We can't trust you. No matter what you say. But we _need_ you, Roid. Until we find my mother we have no choice but to follow you. But we can't trust you."

"I don't trust you, either," Roid answered slowly. "I'm the minority, yes? If I didn't have the information you needed, I couldn't be sure you wouldn't kill me. But I swear on my honor as a Metal Head I have no intention of betraying you. I long ago let my hatred for humans die." He reached out and his claws caught Ryu's shirt, dragging the boy to him. "Do you understand?"

Ryu looked into the Metal Head's darkening eyes. Then he gave a shaky sigh of defeat. "Damnit. You're a Metal Head. You're not supposed to _have_ a soul. I shouldn't be able to see it in your eyes."

"I trust you," Cyren interjected then and everyone glanced at him in surprise. "Zen-Fai, my father, taught me that races hate because they don't understand each other. He told me not to hate you just because we don't know you. I don't hate you and you didn't have to save us. So I trust you. And I know you have a soul, Roid. I saw it the moment you jumped forward to save us from that girl."

"Every Metal Head has a soul," Roid said in disgust and dropped Ryu. "Once, we were a race that was happy to live apart from you humanoids. And we would have gone on living like that, thriving on the outskirts of civilization, underground. But a leader rose up among us and his hatred for your kind drove us to the brink of extinction."

"Are you talking about Kor?" Ryu demanded, his eyes narrowing as in his head he scanned through all the information he had on the infamous Metal Head leader.

"Yes. No one in our tribes wanted to fight the humans. We did not want a war. Kor did. He suppressed our emotions and our thoughts and made us mindless drones." Roid looked away, drawn to a faraway place where they couldn't follow. "When we were freed from his entrapment all we could truly remember was what Jak Mar and Haven City had done to us. Even though it was our hatred that had almost been our downfall it was the one thing we clung to. We joined the Harpies in hopes of gaining revenge for our fallen comrades—not our leader, as you thought—and then, when Eris died, we gained a new leader who tried to cease the fighting."

"Leader?" Maelia managed, gasping. "You have a new leader?"

"Her name is Kiff Fire. And while she hated humans she didn't want an open confrontation with them. War had depleted our forces. So she sank into the ground and retreated the Metal Head race." Roid frowned, touching his scaly chin. "Though I cannot understand why she would go to war against Haven City, or work with Sage-Harmona. It is not like her."

"And you?" Aithne asked with a raised brow. "What of you, Roid? Why don't you fight for the Metal Heads?"

He faced her, his eyes blazing with pain and anger. Aithne almost jumped back but her will kept her standing her ground. Roid turned away and crouched down.

"That is none of your concern."

Aithne and Cyren spared a look, to which Cyren shrugged. Cyren placed a hand on her shoulder and she couldn't help but lean into him. _There's nothing wrong with this. I used to do it all the time._ But she had never been aware of his wiry muscles in his side or the strength of the arm around her shoulder.

For twenty minutes they walked like that, Roid's words circling in their heads. Metal Heads not bad? It seemed like a ridiculous thought. It was impossible. They had been taught since they could understand that Metal Heads were evil and deadly and would kill without thinking.

But Roid said they were just trying to live, like everyone else.

Suddenly, the Metal Head leading them jerked to a halt. Ryu barely managed to stop from skidding into him, but Maelia toppled into Ryu and they both hit the sand. Aithne and Cyren, who had fallen behind, were saved from this.

"Get off me," Ryu groaned and pushed at Maelia. She tried to get up, but their legs were tangled in a jumbled mess.

"Shit. Ryu move your legs!"

"I can't. You're _on_ them."

Maelia grabbed his arms and twisted them, freeing her elbow. She wiggled her hips until she had managed to disentangle her limbs. By the time she was done, Ryu was panting. She stood and glanced down at him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Ryu growled in annoyance as he gained his feet. Maelia tilted her head and gave him a look that bordered on lustful.

"Ryu, I—"

"Silence!" Roid snapped and all heads jerked at his attention. His face was clenched, his thick muscles taut. "Something comes. I can hear it."

"What is it?" Cyren asked as he withdrew his bow-staff from its strap on his back. His face was passive, but there was a tightness over him that showed he was ready to jump into action.

And through the raging sands they saw her, flanked by creatures they had never seen before. They were pale and bald, without any gender distinguishing features. They were all tall, with long fingers with jagged nails, and save for the scraps of fabric they were naked. Most had their heads lowered and all carried deadly knives.

"What are they?" Maelia asked in fear, backing up. Ryu grabbed her elbow and subtly placed her behind him. She grabbed his shoulders in fear.

"What happens when men defy the greater powers," Roid answered in hatred.

But Aithne wasn't paying attention. Her eyes locked on the young girl who came out of the sands at the front of the pack. The dead, liquid gold eyes stared back at her as the girl withdrew her daggers. The thin, black material of her pirate-like dress flapped in the grainy breeze.

It was the girl. The girl who had taken her mother, who had dragged Keira's unconscious and vulnerable body into the sands. Aithne's vision was suddenly coated in red. Here she was _again_ and this time she was not getting away.

"You _bitch_!"

--&--

"We have to hurry," Crea breathed, barely daring to breathe. They were still a good day away from Sage-Harmona, but the Mage was close. Or something he had touched and tainted was.

She knew his smell, his darkness. It haunted her while she was awake, while she slept, while she dreamed. She had grown into womanhood with his scent over her body, washing away its innocence and replacing it with blood.

All that was left of her was the anger and need for revenge. She would find the Mage and she would destroy him and maybe, just maybe, all the blood and darkness and dirt that had coated her skin since she had been seventeen years old.

Crea didn't hold her breath for it. She had long ago come to terms with the fact that she might be destroyed beyond repair. That once she had destroyed the Mage, drenched her body in his tainted blood, there would be nothing left for her and she might simply fade. She understood that and she didn't care.

_I will see him dead. I swear it to the Goddess_, she thought and glanced down at her hands.

"We'll take the horses and scout ahead," a voice entered her subconscious. She turned her head and almost jumped in surprise. But the surprise didn't manage to fully reach her heart and she simply stared at him.

How had Venn gotten so close without her realizing it? Most times she brutally aware of his presence. Her eyes always sought him out first, to take note of his location, to see how to best protect him. But she had been so lost in the depths of her tainted core that she had forgotten about him.

"We'll bring five fighters with us," Venn went on, looking into her eyes. She knew he was searching for the child Crea who had been his best friend and future 'wife'. And it pained her, more than anything had in the recent years that he would never find it. The child, that innocent and bright child, had died so long ago that Crea had forgotten what it felt like to be her.

"Good," she replied coldly. Warmth bubbled at her throat but it was held back by the darkness that the Mage had placed in her heart. She hadn't been warm for so long… all that was left in her was a bone-chilling frigidness.

She wanted to demand of Venn why he bothered with her. She wanted to beg him to leave her, abandon her and let her forget there was ever warmth in her life because knowing that she had once been warm destroyed her more than being cold did.

And then at the same time she wanted him to hold her and force her to leave the darkness behind. She wanted him to look into her eyes see the darkness and do battle with it for her. She wanted him to stand beside her and hold her and touch her until the darkness and the frigid ice around her heart was nothing more than a bad, distant memory.

Venn's hot, russet gaze dropped down to her hands, which sat lifelessly in her lap. She knew he was thinking about gripping them, offering her his comfort. She wanted to tell him not to. She was so afraid that he would cut himself on the shattered shards of her heart.

If he was touched by the darkness because he cared for her, Crea's fragile world would completely give way beneath her feet. All she had was him and if he was touched by the darkness because she wasn't strong enough to let him go… it would be more than she could take. Venn could never know darkness, never know pain, like she did. That was the one thing she could give him, wholly and utterly, the chance to remain innocent and pure. That was all she could give.

"Let's mount and go," she said. Her fingers clenched into fists without her knowledge. _One day, Mage, you'll regret what you did to me._

She imaged him somewhere, laughing.

--&--

The half-human, half-machine people went to lunge at Roid and the others. The Girl raised her hand to stop them. "They are not the people we are looking for. He is not with the Metal Heads."

"So Hirmoyarbeshi did betray them?" Roid answered, a look of rage burning in his eyes. "What kind of leader is that?"

The Girl shrugged. "My Master will do as he pleases. Stand aside. We will not harm you."

"NO!" Aithne stepped in front of the Girl's path. "You took my mother. You _took_ my _mother_! You think I'm just going to let you walk away from me?"

"I have no qualms with you. Nor do I have any wish to bring you harm." The Girl watched Aithne, who panted with rage and hate. "However… if you do not stand down then you are an obstacle. And all obstacles will be eliminated."

"Eliminate this!" Aithne growled and lunged, swinging her sais. The Girl grabbed her by her neck and threw her into the dirt. Cyren rushed to her side as Roid ran up to engage the girl.

"Attack," the Girl said calmly as her knives clashed with the thick skin on Roid's arm. He slashed at her stomach with his long claws, but she elegantly jumped out of the way. She kicked him in the stomach but he dodged.

Roid knew then, it would be a long battle.

Ryu fired his peacemaker at the first human-machine that came after him. Maelia screamed in horror realizing she didn't have a weapon. A creature came at Ryu from behind and she jumped on its back, clawing at its bald scalp. She was thrown into the sand, her head crashing against a rock. Ryu wheeled around and fired. The Peacemaker ripped part of the abominations stomach but it kept on coming.

"Aithne," Cyren said as he dragged her up. She pushed him out of the way and stabbed a monster with her sai. The creature grabbed her wrist and snapped it, throwing her into Cyren.

Now the boy took charge. He jumped to his feet and engaged the creature. His bow-staff parried and blocked the knives as he kicked and swung his arm out and in, flipping to the left, feigning to the right. Aithne got to her feet and stopped another creature that was going at Cyren's side.

Cyren saw everything in tunnel vision. He saw the creature move and met and blocked its attacks. His breath hissed out in concentration and there was only each movement in battle. Everything else was a black void around him. Then he saw it, his opening. The creature tried to go in for the kill, stabbing at his heart. He slapped one end of his bow-staff against its arm, bringing it down, and then swung the other end up.

It cut into the thick tissue of its throat, the blood gurgling in the wound before pouring out. Cyren yanked the sharp end of his bow-staff out and didn't even hear the sickening tear of jugular being pulled away from its neck.

Aithne crashed into him, not nearly as strong or fast enough to defeat a human-machine.

None of the others were faring much better. Maelia was moaning on the ground, blood dripping down the side of her face. Ryu was surrounded and the Girl had a distinct advantage over Roid.

But suddenly it all changed. There was wild battle cry and a gold blur rushed into the fray. The sound of guns being fired broke through the chaos of battle and two human-machines fell down dead, twin bullet holes in their skulls.

A man more than ten years older than Aithne jumped in front of her, his black trench coat billowing in the wind like black wings. He grinned and from his back withdrew a large battle axe. It decapitated the human-machine that came after the boy without much trouble.

More battle cries filled the air and suddenly the tides turned. The five warriors that came acted as nothing more than distraction for the boy and the girl, but they held their own, getting Ryu and Maelia to safety.

But Roid and the Girl were still going at each other. There was a small scratch on the Girl's cheek but other than that she looked unscathed. Purple blood dripped down from Roid's chest and his flank expanded with his deep breathing.

"You've lost, Girl," Roid said. "Your creatures have fallen."

"They are not my creatures," the Girl answered but she turned her head anyway to look. There was a look of relief in her eyes when she saw their dead bodies.

That was all Aithne needed. She threw herself at the Girl. The Girl turned and didn't stop Aithne's attack, although she could have. It was almost as if she _wanted_ to die. Aithne didn't care. The Girl had taken Keira away.

She straddled the girl and pressed her sais into the Girl's throat. "I hate you. You took my mother from me. You _killed_ my grandfather!" There was so much rage in her. Rage at everything. And the Girl had become her target.

"Aithne, stop!" Cyren screamed and grabbed Aithne's arm, dragging her up. She fought against him. The black-haired boy and the blonde woman dragged the Girl up, holding her arms so she couldn't escape.

"No! No! She has to pay for what she did. Let me go, please." She broke down against him, going slack with weakness.

"Why shouldn't she kill her?" Maelia demanded softly, wiping at the blood that dripped down the side of her face as she rested against a horse. A dark-haired man had a hand on her hip to steady her. Ryu was on another horse not far away and he was glaring at the dark-haired man. "She would have killed us."

"No. She would have let us live," Cyren answered and Roid nodded, sitting down in the sand. He pressed his hand to the gaping hole in his chest. "She didn't want to fight. We did."

"Well, if we don't kill her. What are we going to do with her?" Ryu demanded.

"I think I have an idea," the dark-haired man answered and turned to face them. "My name is Venneron of the Desert Tribe. And this is Crea Urban."

--&--

The Mage rested on his bed in the Sage-Harmona palace. He was an old man. A tired old man, even if he was powerful. Most times he had to rest in the palace, preparing himself for the battle he knew was destined to come.

_Hirmoyarbeshi is too arrogant. The Holy City will never fall easily_, the Mage thought with a small smile. _I suppose this will be a humbling experience for him._ He reached over his bed and grabbed a piece fruit from the bowl that rested on his nightstand.

No one knew anything, the Mage realized with a twist of his wrinkled lips. Everything was going according to plan. _His_ plan. The Experiments were now perfect and the Girl had enough human emotions to lead them. When the time came he would be more than ready to take over the world.

"You see, Hirmoyarbeshi," the Mage said with a small laugh, taking his red wine from the nightstand. He slashed it in the crystal sherry. "You think too small. You want glory for Sage-Harmona. I want the _world_ for Sage-Harmona."

It was fortunate that Hirmoyarbeshi had been so willing to overthrow his rulers. The Mage had wandered aimlessly in Sage-Harmona, despairing that his dreams had all faded to ash. And with them, so would he.

But he had found young Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. The rage inside the young boy had been easy to manipulate. Hirmoyarbeshi might not have been brave enough to usurp the entire royal family, to kill them, but with the prodding of the Mage, he had found the willpower.

He raised his hand, watching the gray skin clash with the dark green. Fire licked at his finger tips, screaming of power and deadly confidence.

At the far reaches of his mind he felt the pull of the other world. The immortals were calling to him. But he had learned to ignore their calls, to pretend they weren't there, to hold their grasping hands off.

"Not yet," the Mage said, smiling as he slipped into sleep. "Oh, I'm not ready yet. When all this is done none of you will have any power over me."

Soon. Soon all things would finally fall into place.

--&--

Aithne stood in the tent with Cyren, Ryu, Maelia, and Roid. Crea and Venn where there and they had the Girl chained up and seated in a chair.

"They're called Experiments," Venn answered. "We've fought weaker ones. Hirmoyarbeshi sent some after us as a test. Then the bodies were taken back to Sage-Harmona and the next batch was improved from that."

"That's horrible… _inhuman_!" Maelia shouted, her voice filled with righteous fury. "How could they do something like that? They're playing with people's lives."

"They do it because they can," Crea replied with a calm, neutral face. "And if Haven City has fallen like you said… then that means Hirmoyarbeshi is finally moving against every city. The war has finally started."

"What will they do with my mother?" Aithne demanded. "The Metal Heads kidnapped her. The Metal Heads that were under the order of _her_." She jerked her shoulder at the Girl, who remained quiet in her seat.

"It's possible that they…" Venn frowned, deciding on how to approach the tender subject. "They want her to become the perfect Experiment. They've perfected them enough now so that Keira would be completely under their control, completely powerful, and completely emotionless."

"They can't do that…" Aithne whispered.

"We have to get to Sage-Harmona. _Fast_. We have to get there before they do anything to Miss Keira," Cyren suggested, glancing over at Aithne. The girl had gone pale, too pale. It looked like she was going to pass out. "Everything's going to be fine," he told her.

"I will go with you. I have business in the city," Crea answered and offered no more. Venn shot her a look.

"Crea… my people won't want to go to Sage-Harmona. You know that."

"They do not have to come," Crea told him coolly, shrugging. "I understand. I would not ask you or yours to come with me. I would not expect it of you."

The dark-haired boy looked angry and then he looked defeated. "You know I will, Crea. Stop acting like you're dragging me along. I come willingly and my people will follow me…" he trailed off, glancing at the others. Obviously, he thought it was no place to talk about it with her.

"With or without you, we must go to Sage-Harmona," Roid answered. Everyone was surprised when Crea, Venn, and his desert band had welcomed him without much controversy. Venn had said since Roid had been fighting the Girl it meant he was not an enemy.

"It's dangerous there," Venn retorted. "Extremely. It's more like a fortress now than a city. No one's allowed in or out without the proper passports, handed out by the Lord General's secretaries."

"I'm sure we can find a way to sneak in," Ryu answered. "In the Krimzon Guard, sneaking was a big part of the training." He glanced around, feeling a little out of place among these laid back people. He had thought he was loose but he was nothing compared to them.

"I know of a secret passage that will take us in," Crea answered. "We'll have to be careful about it, but it should provide us with the access we need."

"What about _her_?" Aithne demanded, sending a hot, burning glare the Girl's way. "What are we going to do with her?"

"We cannot let her go," Roid pointed out and walked toward her. She didn't glance up at him, her dark hair falling over her face like a curtain. "But it seems cruel to kill her, being that's she's so young."

"She is one of the Mage's," Crea growled, but not in rage at the Girl. It was anger at the mysterious Mage. "The Mage is one of Hirmoyarbeshi's magick users. He designed the Experiments and this Girl. This is not her fault."

"She attacked Haven City," Aithne snarled back at her, fingers clenching into rage-filled fists. "She led the Metal Heads in. She did it. Not some Mage. It was all her."

"But she's so young," Cyren protested. "She looks young." He glanced at her and thought how thin she was, how pale. No matter what she had done he couldn't hate her. "Too young to be a killer."

"But she is," Ryu pointed out, not sure whose side he was on.

"Killing her…" Maelia mumbled sadly. "It seems like the cleanest way to deal with her. If she's an Experiment like all the rest, maybe it would be a gift."

"I do not wish to die," the Girl said quietly. It was so quiet that for a moment they doubted they heard her. Then they all stared at her and waited for her to continue. "I am the first Experiment that lived. I am the prototype. I have human emotions—sometimes. And as a human I do not wish to die." When she looked at them, her eyes were golden and emotionless.

"I understand," Venn replied with a nod. He bent down and touched her knee in a gentle, fatherly way. "But we cannot trust you. You may be a prototype, but you _are_ an Experiment. You are programmed to be loyal to Hirmoyarbeshi."

"I will swear a blood oath," the Girl answered softly. She stared into Venn's dark eyes. "You are of the desert, correct? Use your magick on me so that I am bound to serve by my blood oath. Then you can be sure."

The older man nodded and stood up. "If she is on our side, it would be easier to gain access to Sage-Harmona." He looked at the group, looking for agreement. Slowly, one by one, they saw the logic in it.

"I—I don't want her to help us. I don't want her help," Aithne growled, but slowly let her fists unclench. "But if you'll get me faster to my mother then I'll agree. But I still hate you."

"I do not ask for anything but my life," the Girl replied as she strained against the bonds that held her tethered to the chair. "I will make the oath."

"The blood oath of the desert works like this," Venn explained as he withdrew an ornate dagger from his belt. "This Girl will choose one of us and bond herself to that person. She'll choose a certain time for how long she'll spend in service to that person. If she goes back on her word her blood will burst in her veins and she'll die."

"The blood oath is a sacred desert ritual that once held practice in Sage-Harmona. During the rule of Crania Yoshimoro I the ritual was outlawed and the practice remained only in the desert tribes. It is rarely used," the Girl said in a small, educated tone. It sounded as if she was reading the definition from a dictionary.

"You know you're ancient rituals," Venn muttered with a small smile. He looked at Crea, looking for her agreement in the decision. She nodded slowly. "Alright then, choose one of us to bond yourself to."

The Girl's eyes, golden and golem, scanned each and every one of them. She rested them briefly on Aithne and then looked away. She spared Ryu and Maelia small glances and she didn't bother to look at Crea. Her gaze lingered on Venn the longest before it rested on Cyren. Her gaze turned intense as she stared at his neck.

"What?" Cyren asked, glancing down at his body, looking for something that would hold the Girl's interest.

"You wear a medallion around your neck," the Girl pointed out. She motioned with her head for him to step closer. "May I look upon it?"

"Wha—what? Oh, Father's? Sure." He stepped toward her, withdrawing the silver medallion he had placed under his shirt. The insignia glittered with a brilliant silver in the light. A bright, curling panther was inscribed on it, claws ready to attack.

With a nod, the Girl leaned back in the seat. "I have decided. I will bond myself to this boy—Cyren, am I correct?" When Cyren nodded his bright blonde hair in confusion, she sighed deeply. "I swear upon my blood that I will follow Cyren until he is in his rightful place, alive and well."

Venn's voice, thick and husky, filled the tent as he bent down and touched the dagger to the girl's neck. His eyes were bright with magick as he made a _C_ in the girl's bared neck, just above her collarbone, muttering the correct incantations as he went. The Girl's eyes drifted closed and she inhaled, choking on magick. Blood, bright against her pale skin, ran down her neck.

Cyren gave a small choked gasp and collapsed against Aithne. She grasped him and held him against her body. She turned her accusing eyes onto Crea. "What's wrong with him? What are you doing to _him_?"

"He has a fever," Maelia mumbled in worry as she touched Cyren's forehead. Sweat pooled along his brow and he mumbled incoherently.

"This is magick?" Ryu asked in confusion, unable to take his eyes off the Girl as her head lolled back onto her shoulder.

"It is ancient magick, and no magick comes without a cost. A binding spell even more so. You are bonding two people together. You must connect not only their blood, but their souls," Roid explained.

"_Silence_!" Crea snapped, her blue eyes glittering as she watched. "Venn needs complete silence to finish the spell. It takes much concentration."

Suddenly, Cyren jolted awake, his ebony eyes wide. He gasped and touched his face, staring at the Girl as if he had never seen her before. "What did they _do to you_?" he demanded on a sharp intake of breath.

"I suspected it," was all the Girl muttered and dropped down into unconsciousness. On her skin, the letter _C_ glowed a bright, blood red. Cyren's skin glowed the same color for a moment before it faded back to its normal tan.

"I'm alright," Cyren said with a tired smile as Aithne touched his face and his shoulder and arm. "But I am a little hot…" he trailed off and collapsed against her neck, sighing at the cool touch of it.

"Is he—is he alright?" she demanded as her body sagged against Cyren's weight. Who knew he was so heavy?

"He needs rest," Venn answered, his voice sounding far away and tired. "So do I. I've never done a binding spell before and I…" now it was his turn to trail of. He was about to hit the floor, but Crea caught him and pulled him to his desk, setting him down on top of it. She withdrew her hands and stared at them like they were foreign instruments.

"We'll stay here for the night," Crea replied. "It would be dangerous to move them until the spell has completely worn into their skin."

"But what happens… my mother!" Aithne laid Cyren gently on the floor, brushing his bright blonde bangs from his face. "I don't think I… I can wait."

"Aithne, maybe we should…" Maelia shrugged and touched the side of her face, which had just recently been bandaged. "Wait. We don't do any good for Miss Keira if we're all injured."

"You know how I hate to agree with Maelia, but she's right," Ryu piped in. "We all need our rest. We'll be better for it."

"If something—if something happens to my mother…" Aithne trailed off, finding herself lost for words. _There's so much I haven't told her. I need to say how sorry I am. How much I love her. I do love her… Mother…_

Crea reached out and touched her arm. Aithne almost jumped away. Her skin was ice cold. Crea withdrew her hand.

"I will show you where you can sleep." Crea turned and walked out of the tent. "You look tired."

--&--

"Hullo, Lady Keira. I must admit, it is a pleasure."

Keira turned her head, squinting into the darkness. She couldn't see who it was in the darkened room but his voice sounded wizened, ancient. It made a strong tremble slide along her spine. She tried to curl deeper into a ball, but the chains on her wrists kept her from twisting.

Boots clicked against the stone floor and Keira choked on a scream as a wrinkled hand touched her smooth cheek. It was clammy and scaly, like a reptiles. She turned her head from it and a raspy laugh filled the room.

"I knew your bloodline well once," the old man said and Keira closed her eyes. It felt like wave after wave of pain was riding over her stomach, her legs, her chest. "I was a humble servant to the Goddess."

She couldn't speak. Something locked around her throat and kept the words buried deep. She tried to jerk and escape it but it was everywhere, heavy in the room. This was dark, perverse magick and it pushed her to the very brink of her life.

"Of course, that was when she was a _virgin_ goddess," the old man said on a second thought. "When she defiled herself with that no-good knight I lost my faith in her and all the other gods."

"You—you don't know any—anything," Keira managed to gasp. The hand slipped down to touch her shoulder. "About them."

"I know more than you. I was _there_. I died at the hands of desert forces when I moved to eradicate them from Sage-Harmona's realms." The laugh came again, harsher this time. "But I'm stubborn, milady. And I came back when everyone else was brought back, latching onto the power of the Goddess and drawing myself back into the living."

"What—what do you want with me?"

"You'll be a fine symbol for the future world, Lady Keira. And you have the Goddess's blood in you," the old man answered and pressed his fingers against Keira's forehead. "You'll make a fine warrior for my army."

"No—" she began but then her protest turned into a scream. Fire pressed against her scalp, singeing her skin. It felt like her entire body was on fire and no matter how much she twisted she couldn't escape it.

But yes, oh yes, she could escape the fire. Blackness swarmed her vision and promised sweet release if she gave into it. For a moment Keira struggled against it, scared of the imposing darkness. But the fire was too much to handle and she sank into it, gratefully.

"Sleep well, Lady," the Mage whispered as he touched Keira's burning forehead. "And when you awake you'll be my servant."

--&--

Jak was a day's journey from Sage-Harmona. The sands beat against his face. A red bandana covering his mouth and nose for protection, while his goggles had been brought down to cover his eyes.

He had never been to Sage-Harmona, even in the seventeen years of service to Lokin. In fact, Lokin had as good as ordered him to go nowhere _near_ the city.

But nothing would stop him from going there now. If Keira was there then he would be there. He would tear down the high walls of Sage-Harmona, strike down any that stood before him, take on the world if it meant he could reach her. He would save Keira.

_Keira…_ what would she say when she met him again? Lokin had told Jak that everyone thought he was dead. Would she be mad at him? Would she rage? Or would she weep for joy and throw herself into his arms?

There was no way to tell and Jak didn't know if he truly deserved her tears of joy. It would be her right to rage at him, to hate him for what he had done. For seventeen long years he had been away from her, leaving her to deal with everything on her own. Their life, her job, the child…

The child. Jak's thoughts always turned to the child. Before he had know it was a _her _he had always wondered: was it a boy or was it a girl? Lokin hadn't told him for a long, long while. The baby who really wasn't a baby anymore was always on his mind. When he fell asleep he dreamed about it—later, her—about what it would look like. What it would grow up to be.

It haunted him. He had missed a lifetime. His child's lifetime. What were her interests? Did she have any hopes, any dreams? What did his daughter want to be? Did she have friends, boyfriends?

When he found Keira he would ask her. Even if she hated him she wouldn't withhold that information from him, would she? Keira wasn't that bitter a person.

But seventeen years could change a person. Jak knew that very well, a mere two years had changed him from an innocent young boy to a vengeful young man. Without him Keira could have gone through so much, all alone. Maybe being a mother changed her. Maybe she would accept Jak back in fear that her daughter would be hurt.

"I'll fix it…" he mumbled to himself. "I'll fix everything. I _have_ to." Because what was there for him if he couldn't hope of gaining back everything he had lost? The past seventeen years had been spent imagining what he would be able to gain once Lokin freed him.

The sands were howling monsters, barring his path to Sage-Harmona. It was almost as if they _wanted_ him to fail in making it to the old city. It made rage flow into Jak's blood. _No. No. Nothing's going to stop me from getting to Keira. Nothing._

He undid the strap holding his Scatter Gun to his side to prove it. If he had to fight the wind then he would.

Dark Jak could easily make it through these sands, Jak knew, but he was wary to bring his dark counterpart into play. Throughout the past seventeen years he had found the darkness that had once fueled him fading away. It was there, still powerful, still waiting to be unleashed, but it didn't touch his heart and taint his soul like it had before. Now it was balanced.

Finally balanced…

That balance wouldn't do him any good if he didn't get to Keira. And so Jak kept on running, running until the sun started to set. He knew it wasn't a good idea to move in the desert at night—poisonous beasts roamed the dunes then—but he needed to get to Sage-Harmona as fast as he could.

Suddenly he stopped, his grip tightening on his Scatter gun and his ears perking. Years of fighting and eco-induced skills had honed his hearing to the point where he could hear the soft snap of a twig yards away.

A dark mass moved at his side, growling deeply. Jak sidestepped it and fired a shot. A bleeding mass of Metal Head limbs crumpled to the sand, one leg twitching. But even as it died, five more rose to take its place.

"I don't have time for this…" he growled in annoyance, taking aim and firing again.

--&--

Roid prowled the caravan's camping grounds, his Metal Head senses scanning the area for possible threats to Cyren and now—he supposed—Aithne, Maelia, and Ryu. He doubted that Crea, Venn, or the Girl needed any protection. They were very capable beings.

But then again… Cyren had proved he was a very capable person himself. He had taken down an Experiment on his own. And he had been the only one other than Crea and Venn to do so.

He was a yard from the caravan. With a long claw he drew a nail into the sand, crouching onto all fours. He picked up a handful of bleached sand and then tossed it into the air, letting the grain pieces dance. Then he circled the caravan, keeping his eye on it.

Then it was done. His scent would now circle the caravan. It wouldn't protect them from Experiments or Sage-Harmona soldiers, but should wayward Metal Heads decide a caravan of nomads would be easy pickings they would be immediately put off by Roid's scent. This was to protect both the caravan and the Metal Heads so that he would not have to kill them to protect his charges.

When he was sure his work was done, Roid returned to the camp. He felt a strange drowsiness on him, but he would only require a few hours of sleep. He would grab it when he could, the remaining hours before dawn perhaps. In this strange land he wouldn't allow himself to leave Cyren unguarded.

Once he had arrived there, his honed hearing catching the soft snores of the young men, he settled on his haunches beside the tent door. Cyren bunked with Ryu, but the two young adults did not seem close friends. Roid assumed this was because the two were so different. Cyren open and accepting, Ryu closed and refusing to change his opinions. And though Roid hated it, he knew Ryu had a better chance of survival than Cyren. This world ate people like Cyren up.

Not far away were Aithne and Maelia. The two girls had a tense friendship now, after years of separation. Roid sensed the desperation in Maelia as she tried to mend the bridge with Aithne. And Aithne… well Aithne's emotions were just a jumbled mess of hate and rage. That girl couldn't decide who she hated and, at her core, she was just looking for a way to expel the depression in her life.

Cyren had feelings for that girl, Roid could sense it. In subtle, subconscious ways he alerted other males that the girl was his. As an animal it was his natural ability to detect the subtle movements. Though he had no interest in any females of his group, he had taken careful note of the couples in their ragtag party. Ryu and Maelia, both claiming everyone but each other. Venn and Crea, with Crea the unwilling participant… Roid didn't know what he thought of Crea just yet. There was a darkness in her that bordered on evil, but he sensed her underlying goodness. At Crea's core, Roid sensed the light trying to break through the dark.

His senses went on high alert as he felt the movement of another person. Then he relaxed, smelling the magick on her before he smelt her. She had a clean, cold smell.

It was the Girl. She approached him slowly, her eyes glowing golden in the night. Roid's eyes trailed down to her neck. The red magick of her scar had faded and it glowed with gentle power in the moonlight.

The girl made him feel… sad and angry at the same time. Sad that the Girl had been violated and destroyed beyond repair. And angry that humans could do that to their own kind.

At the same time, he felt a connection to her. Both their lives had been destroyed by Hirmoyarbeshi's quest for power.

"I suspected that you would be here," the Girl said. She turned her dark head toward Cyren's tent. "He sleeps… peacefully I think. I believe he dreams of the girl, daughter of Jak Mar."

"You know who Jak Mar is?" He knew who Jak Mar was, of course. But he had never hated him like all the other Metal Heads. When he had been freed from Kor's iron grasp he had wanted nothing to do with war and had let the past go.

"Mar, Jak…" The Girl said in a computer voice. "Date of birth, unknown, believed to be about thirty nine years ago, plus or minus. Involved in the Metal Head Conflict of Haven City twenty-one years ago, fought in the New Eris War, twenty years ago. Supposedly died seventeen years ago at the hands of Metal Heads. Surviving family, his wife—one Keira Hagai Mar—and daughter—Aithne Hagai Mar."

"I guess you do…" Roid mumbled.

"My former Master, Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi, believed knowledge would help me succeed in my missions. I will now use it to help Cyren…" The Girl turned her face from him, looking out at the stars.

"Why did you choose Cyren as your bond-mate?" Roid questioned.

"I sensed he was the one most open to me," the Girl answered. "Aithne Hagai Mar would not suffice—her heart is too full of hate—and Maelia Ottsel and Ryutaro Praxis would not accept me because they are both unwilling to open their souls. Crea Urban would perhaps accept me but it would be reluctant. You would have as well, but it would have been an unwanted burden. You have many burdens. The best option perhaps would have been Venn but it is likely we would have both been destroyed if I had chosen him. Because he was the caster we were already bonded. Our bodies would not have been able to withstand the magick. So I chose Cyren. He has a strong tolerance for magick and he was the only one willing…"

"You know many things that have not been said," Roid pointed out with a tired smile, the skin pulled taut around his lips.

"I have been trained to observe all things…"

He grabbed her wrist. She saw it coming but didn't stop him. At his tugging she sat down beside him. "You have been trained for many things," was all he said, looking at her hands. _A killer's hands_.

"Yes."

"Do you hate him? I would not blame you if you did. Do you hate the man who has trained you to kill in his name?"

"I do not know what hate is. I know only that I serve my master, whoever he may be."

"Cyren is not your master," Roid pointed out as he dropped her hand. "Remember that. You are to protect him at all costs, but in no way are you to serve a master. Perhaps you will learn to be your own person."

The Girl said nothing. She looked down at her hand as if she had never seen it before. "I do not understand… before I felt my master's presence wherever I was, I was his extended will. But now… now there is nothing. Silence."

"The Mage probably had you under a magick spell in case you tried to break away from him. Venn's magick is strong and the Mage's probably weakens with distance. So it was broken," Roid suggested gently.

"Yes. People called me a murderer… at Sage-Harmona. Their voices reached my ear but never before did I understand." Her hands settled into her lap as the Girl kept her face neutral. "I have killed people."

"As have I," Roid replied. "I have killed many people, most in anger and grief. We all do things we are shamed off later."

"But I am not ashamed. I feel nothing," the Girl answered. "My emotions are buried away somewhere… I have not felt them for-" she paused "I cannot remember when I felt them last. But it has been a long time."

"That, too, was likely the Mage's spells on you. Just because the emotions could not be taken from you did not mean that they couldn't be suppressed to the point of nonexistence. In time they'll return," Roid answered. For a moment the girl looked almost angry with the promise.

"I do not know how to handle them," the Girl admitted as her face was smoothed into indifference.

"You'll learn," Roid muttered. "You'll have to. Humans really like their emotions…"

--&--

Jak watched as the remaining two Metal Heads scurried away from him. The carcasses of the ones he had killed remained twitching and bleeding in the sand.

He considered going after them, but he didn't have the time. Turning from them, he picked up speed again and started running towards Sage-Harmona.

There was no way for him to know that only hours later the two Metal Heads he had let live would find themselves kneeling before their leader, Kiff Fire, with dire news on their lips.

_Jak Mar… alive…

* * *

_

**AN:** yeah, some more Jak. Not a lot, and not right away, but he's coming. He gets real big once he meets up with the gang (the gang being everyone else) and that's coming. Honest! It's coming!

**Act XV:** surprise, surprise, Aithne. Your father's alive! Ah… don't kill him?

Reviews 

**Xazz:** ah, Lokin, Lokin, Lokin. He's an ass. Maybe that's why I love him? I love writing asses. Plus, he's an ass with all the answers! And he's not telling. Lokin is just shameful. Just wait until Part Four!

**Specter Von Baron:** oh very desperate. But that's where the title comes from. _Penalties of War_, no? Where no one is really evil, everyone just has different goals and aims that often clash.

**Light Eco Sage:** God… I try not think about it. It makes my brain twitch. And you know that weekend right after I was down I had SATs! That was one bad month. But it's all over now. XD

**GoodMorningBeautiful2005:** unfortunately, yes, I did have to kill Samos. And just for the fact that he was a frail, innocent, old man. Penalties of War. And now I know what JK Rowling meant when she said she _had_ to kill of Sirus Black. Or Denny from _Grey's Anatomy_ (my current obsession). They just had to die!

**Teh Kitsune:** couldn't shot Hirmoyarbeshi now, could I? Beside, both Daxter and Torn are too honorable to shot someone like that. Even Hirmoyarbeshi totally deserves it. And obviously… Crea's not doing too well. Poor Venn.

**ForestWalker:** Kingdom Hearts rocks my socks and that's all I'm going to say. Plus, there aren't nearly enough Sora/Kairi supporters out there. And the reunion between Jak and Aithne is coming. Boy, she's is not going to be a happy camper… as if she wasn't one before…


	15. People We Don't Know

**Disclaimer:** you go ahead, you sue me. I could use the laugh

**AN:** I could go into how very, very awful this month has been for me (from lose of a job to erasure of all my files) but I think that would be longer then the chapter, which you may have noticed… _is long_. One of the longest I've ever written. Maybe that makes up for the delay? Anywho, sorry 'bout that and er… I'm going on vacation in a bit (22nd!) so updates will have to wait until I get back!

**Warnings:** none

**EDIT:** oh. My. God. I have been _spelling_ Ashelin's name wrong ever since I started writing in this fandom! How could no one bring that to my attention? I shame myself…

**EXTRA EDIT:** ages. Here they are. Teh Kitsune asked for them and I realized that it might not be too clear just how old everyone is. These are the major OC characters for Part Three/Part Four (not counting Gareth, Sala, or anyone in the Holy City). If anyone wants to know the ages of any of the other players, just let me know and I'll post 'em. Including Jak, Keira, and Co.  
Aithne- 17  
Cyren- 18  
Maelia- 18  
Ryu- 19  
Crea- 28  
Venn- 29  
Annityn- 16/17 (real age is unknown)  
Tage Yao- 22

* * *

**Act XV: People We Don't Know **

Sage-Harmona loomed in the distance, a silent city with high stone walls and a promise of death. People didn't go in and people didn't come on. In the seventeen years since it had been raised from the ashes, Sage-Harmona had closed itself off from everything else.

And they, Maelia thought on a weak shudder, were walking right into it. Keira Hagai was there and Aithne was determined to get her mother back, come hell or high water.

Thinking of Keira made Maelia think of her own parents. She didn't even know if they had survived the sacking of their city. And, selfishly, she wondered if Daxter was worried about her. If he bit his nails, praying to anything and everything that she was alright, that she was live. She knew her mother would be doing that, but she knew her father wouldn't really care.

She closed herself off to the bitter thought. Night had descended once more on the caravan and tomorrow they would arrive at the city. Crea had a plan to get into the city, with the Girl's help, but Maelia hadn't asked and hadn't been offered the details of the arrangement.

The Girl. Since she had arrived she hadn't strayed far from Cyren's side. Aithne was hostile to her, but the Girl remained indifferent to the entire group. She only seemed willing to hold a conversation with Roid.

Maelia didn't know what she thought of the Girl. She seemed too inhuman to have a personality and so Maelia hadn't been able to make an opinion of her. Sometimes Maelia wanted to shake the Girl and ask her what she felt.

Aithne had been told to leave the Girl alone. Aithne hadn't been willing—or able—to forgive the Girl for taking Keira. And, Maelia supposed, no one could blame her. The Girl hadn't taken Tess from Maelia and so she had been able to forgive and forget.

Walking among the tall tents of the desert nomads, Maelia paused when she saw the Girl. She was standing outside Cyren's tent, hands crossed over at her chest.

"Hullo," Maelia greeted with a forced smile. The Girl was their ally and Maelia refused to be mean to her. They needed her corporation.

The Girl said nothing and Maelia felt the awkward silence stretch between them. She shuffled her feet in the sand, kicking at the tiny grains. _Have to find some conversation piece. Come on Maelia, you're a great talker!_

"Err… um…" But what did you say to a person who, days ago had been your enemy? And further more, what did you say to someone who obviously hadn't been taught how to talk with other people? "What… what's… your name?"

"I have no name," the Girl answered immediately. "My former master did not think a name would help him. It did not."

"You don't have a name?" Maelia demanded and stared at the girl. She was a good head and a half taller than her. The Girl was extremely tall with a lanky, almost boyish body. "How can you not have a name?"

"I have just told you."

"Well…" Maelia put her hands on her hips and thrust her nose into the air, trying to look haughty. "I _won't_ go around calling you 'Girl'. Think of a name." When the Girl did not answer Maelia pressed, "I'll just name you if you don't."

"Annityn."

"What?"

The Girl gave a small shrug, lifting her shoulder. "You may call me Annityn. I think… that was my name, once. It is familiar to me."

"Alright, Annityn it is! You know, that's a weird name… but it fits you." Maelia grinned and waved. "Well, I guess I'll go to bed now. We'll have to get up early to sneak into the city. Right?"

"Correct," Annityn agreed. She watched as Maelia walked away and then, when she was gone, looked down at her hand. "Annityn," she muttered, testing the word on her tongue. She shrugged and then went back to guarding Cyren's tent.

_These people are strange,_ the Girl now called Annityn thought to herself. And yet… she herself was probably stranger than they were. Here she was, a former enemy and they had taken her into their homes without so much as a word.

Well… most of them anyway.

Annityn felt the heated glare of the girl called Aithne upon her. She recognized Aithne as the daughter of Jak Mar—_war hero, fought in the Metal Head Wars of Haven City, involved in the Eris Incident of the Holy City, last of the Mar line, MIA, presumed dead_—and Keira Hagai—_daughter of Kikita Kinover, descendent of the Goddess, fought in the Metal Head Wars, and leader of the destruction of Eris, retired to Haven City_—but as far as she could tell their was no hint of ancient magick in her, or even the stain of Dark Eco from her father.

There was only anger in Aithne, anger and grief. Her city was destroyed, her mother kidnapped, and her father dead. All that anger and pent-up grief had to find a way to release itself and it manifested in Aithne's rage, zeroing in on one person with all the abhorrence someone so young could muster.

It was understandable, Annityn supposed. Of course, it wasn't understandable to her—she had never been so enraged before, she couldn't even remember being angry—but as far as her understanding of normal humans went, lashing out instead of facing one's problems seemed like the path most took.

A chill worked its way up her skin and she blinked in surprise, rubbing at her arms. She couldn't remember ever being cold. It was an odd sensation, one that affected her entire being. Gooseflesh rose up on her arm and her teeth chattered.

"Cold?" a voice asked a thick blanket was dropped onto her shoulders.

She glanced up at Roid as the Metal Head took a seat beside her, resting on his hunches. His dark eyes were focused in the distance and Annityn hiked the blanket higher on her shoulder.

"It is strange… I have never been cold before…"

"The magick must be wearing off," Roid answered slowly, his scaly lips cracking in a small smile. She did look confused, her nose crinkled and her eyebrows drawn together. There was also a look of annoyance on her face, as if she thought she couldn't be bothered by these trifle emotions. "It must be annoying."

"Yes." She didn't bother lying. But she didn't mention that at the same time she was almost relieved at the new and strange emotions that swarmed her. It was almost as if something inside her was sighing.

_See. We're not completely inhuman. There are our emotions. There they are…_

--&--

Had Sage-Harmona gone so lax in their security because of their power or was it just a fault in the rigid military order of their life?

Jak Mar didn't know but he planned on taking the advantage the city gave him.

They left the gates open for exactly a half hour so the soldiers could march out. And it took a while. There were rows and rows of soldiers that poured from the city. _Like a_, Jak thought ruefully, _deadly disease being spread across the land._

He watched the city's activity from his position flat on a small cliff. Another lucky thing for him was that Sage-Harmona was surrounded by rocky hills. Perfect hiding in the night. He gripped his gun tightly in one hand.

For almost twenty minutes, an endless stream of soldiers poured out. They were formed into tight lines—like a Krimzon Guard regiment—and covered in chain-mail and body armor. Most carried swords or spears—_no guns?_ Jak thought—and they followed a single man on a horse.

It was strange to see all the soldiers leaving the city. Just who were they going to war against? Jak's fingers tightened over his gun. _They've already destroyed Haven_ _City_… _those bastards. They'll get what's coming to them…_

But first he had to rescue Keira. The last line of soldiers exited the city and Jak hopped to his feet, sliding down the rocky face of the hill. Dirt clouded his eyes and he fought to keep a cough in. He didn't want to alert anyone to his presence.

Pressed against the wall, casting his entire body in the shadows, he followed the smooth, stone wall of Sage-Harmona to the gate. He slid in just as the turning of gears filled the air. The gates closed ominously behind.

"Keira's got to be in the palace," he muttered, as he put his gun in the holster on his back. Not wanting to bring attention to himself, he lifted himself up onto the lowest roof he could find. His boots clip-clapped against the shingles as he jumped from top to top, each leap bringing him closer and closer to his destination.

_They better not have hurt you, Keira… or I swear they'll wish they had never been born_, he thought viciously. He focused on getting closer to the palace, nothing else. Below him, a few brave people dared to come out of their home. But they never thought to look up, to notice the man climbing their rooftops.

Jak made it to the palace without much trouble. Some of the shingles were loose and he had almost plummeted but he had been able to right himself before taking the fall. The palace was now only feet away, but there were no more roofs for him to jump down to. He would have to find another way to sneak into the palace.

Guards walked below him. Jak knelt and narrowed his eyes at them. They all wore similar clothes. Perhaps he could knock one unconscious and take the uniform. He could sneak into the castle like a guard.

Wouldn't work. He didn't look like a soldier and he didn't know where he was going in the palace. It would look odd for a soldier to be wandering the palace with no clue where to go.

"Sir, I don't think it's wise…" one of the soldiers was saying. There were two of them. The shorter one was the one talking. The taller one—dressed in the elegant red of a Sage-Harmona general—was shaking his head.

"Soldier, I gave you an order," the taller soldier replied in a clipped, military tone. His back was stiff as he stared down at the soldier. And the younger, shorter soldier had every reason to be intimated. The general was… tall, very tall, and powerful looking.

"Yes sir."

The soldier left and Jak stood. Alright, time to sneak into the palace. As soon as the general left he would—

Jak bit down on a curse as a shingle gave way beneath his foot. Then another one slid. He had no choice but to fall onto his ass and take the almost painful ride off the roof.

But something was there to break his fall.

He went crashing into the general just below him. With an 'oof' they both went careening onto the ground, Jak on top. For a moment they both laid on the ground, blinking in surprise at what had just transpired between them.

Then the general rolled away, grabbed Jak roughly and kept him on the ground. He was young, Jak realized. Too young. No more than twenty one, maybe twenty two. And yet there was no denying his military prowess. His young, stubborn face almost had the trials of war written on him. He had a scar that slashed across his cheek.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice deep and powerful.

But he had no time to think about the youth of this man. If he was in Jak's way then Jak would take him down. He unhooked his gun with a lightning fast motion and pressed it into the young man's chin. "Where the _hell_ is Keira?"

The young man blinked at him and released him. Jak jumped to his feet and kept his gun targeted on the young man. "Do you speak of Lady Keira Kinover?" he asked.

"I'm talking about my _wife_," Jak snapped, his voice enraged. "You took her from Haven City. And I want her back!"

"You're Jak Mar, aren't you?" For someone who had just found out that a man who was supposed to be dead was alive, the general was handling it well. "I've been told you were dead."

"Well, I'm not and I'm here to rescue my wife."

"I understand, but not now. There are too many guards in the palace today." The general tossed him a folded piece of parchment. "Use the map to sneak into the palace tomorrow night. Most of the soldiers will be gone and the rest will be patrolling the city. Lady Keira is in the subbasement of the palace, use the map to get to her."

Jak stared at the map in bewilderment. It didn't make sense why this young man was helping him. But if he was helping him then Jak wasn't going to complain.

"Alright." He turned to flee from the palace but looked over at the young man over his shoulder. "You better not be lying."

"I'm not," the young man answered and Jak decided he trusted him.

For now.

--&--

"So how do we plan to get into Sage-Harmona?" Maelia questioned as said city came into view. She sat on the bench seat of the leading wagon. Venn was beside her, guiding the reins and everyone else stood around beside the wagon. Behind him, Venn's desert band kept up in pace.

"There is a secret passage on the side of the city walls," Annityn answered. As soon as everyone had awakened Maelia had gone about telling them that her new name was Annityn. Most people, uncomfortable with calling her 'The Girl', had accepted it. "However, I could achieve entrance by using you as my prisoners."

"Too risky," Crea muttered, frowning as her brain worked to figure out a plan. "I have a better idea. Annityn and I will go in this morning. Roid can use the passage as the sun starts to set."

"I'm going too," Aithne protested and growled when Crea shook her head. "Look, it's _my_ mother. I have just as much right to be in there as Roid does! I'm going in and you can't stop me."

"If I must go into the city, Cyren must go as well," Roid answered in a clipped tone. "I am only here to see that he is safe. Other than that I have no reason to help you."

"Well, if Aithne's going into the city…" Cyren's chin came up as he said it. "Then I'm going in, too."

"What about us?" Maelia demanded, pointed to Ryu. "We can't just wait here while you go off and save Auntie K! We can fight just as well as everyone else."

"I have no doubt that you can," Venn replied and smiled dazzlingly at her. Maelia gave a small sigh and Ryu's back stiffened. "But it's just harder to keep everyone together when there's more than necessary. I'm not going in either. We'll wait here and be prepared to run as fast as we can once they get Lady Keira out."

"It is the best form of attack," Ryu agreed reluctantly. His eyes were narrowed slightly at Venn. "Even if we don't agree with it."

Maelia crossed her arms and huffed, staring angrily into the open space of the desert.

"I'll go get my guns. Annityn, wait for me at the gates," Crea snapped as she turned and walked away. Annityn gave a small nod before approaching the walls of Sage-Harmona, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the stone.

Venn hopped out of the wagon and followed Crea towards the one that she had adopted as her own. He tried staring at her until she had no choice but to look at him. But Crea had become talented at ignoring him and his heated gaze was ineffective.

So he sighed and ran a hand through his long hair, loosening it in its ponytail. "I don't like this. Going in there alone with an enemy… it just doesn't seem right, Crea." He tried reaching out for her, but she moved out of his reach. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Annityn isn't an enemy anymore," she pointed out and sent him a small look from under her lashes. "You said so yourself." She placed her twin pistols in the holsters on her calves, strapping them down tight.

"I know, and I know she won't betray us—she'll die if she does—but I—" he broke off, cursing under his breath. "I just hate not being there… not being there to protect you."

It felt as if he had missed the chance to protect her, once, and in response she had turned into this shell of a woman. This Crea with the frigid eyes and cold nature. It felt as if it was all his fault. All he wanted to do was hold her and kiss her and try to soothe whatever ache she had.

But he had missed the chance so long ago and now there was this gap between them and it was growing longer by the day.

"I'll be fine," she said softly and for the first time in years her eyes softened. It was the closest she had ever become to being tender. Venn even thought that for a moment she might reach out and touch him.

Then it faded from her face. Venn watched in bitterness as her features slid into a neutral mask and she backed away from him.

"I have to go," she told him.

"Yeah." He watched as she walked away, hand outstretched for her. It felt as if his hand would always remain in the air, waiting…

Crea walked over to Aithne as she hovered near Cyren and Roid. "I will meet you near the palace. Don't go in until you find me," she told her.

"Alright," Aithne agreed. She was trying to be cooperative and she hadn't yelled at Annityn all day. All she wanted was for her mother to be alright and back with her. She wanted to tell Keira how sorry she was for all the mean things she had done and that she would never do them again.

Annityn stood as Crea approached. "I will need to hold your arm," she said, her eyes guarded as she watched Crea's reaction. Somehow, it was almost as if she knew _why_ Crea was so cold and distant from everyone.

"Fine," she snapped and held her arm out for Annityn to grip.

The younger woman guided Crea toward the entrance of the gate. Venn and the others disappeared around its side.

"How goes there?" a voice demanded from above. Looking up, Crea spotted a soldier stared down at them from his post on the wide walls of Sage-Harmona.

"It is I," Annityn answered and said no more about herself. "I have the prisoner Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi ordered captured."

"Oui. Open the gate, it's _her_."

"Do not make a sound," Annityn said against Crea's ear as the large, stone gates of Sage-Harmona were cranked open. She pushed Crea toward the gate and they entered. Behind them, the gate slammed shut and Annityn called. "I will take her to the palace."

There was no answer and Annityn pulled Crea along the stone ground. She couldn't help but look around at the city that used to be her home. It had changed from what she had remembered. There were no people hustling about. Everything around her was dark and silent. Only the occasional soldier walked by, face grim and emotionless.

Where had all the people gone? Where had the light and hope and wealth disappeared to? The Sage-Harmona Crea remembered had been full of hope and life. People had been proud to live in the city.

And now there was only darkness…

"In here," Annityn ordered and pushed Crea into a dark alley. "They won't follow us anymore." She released Crea's arm and settled down on a heap of junk. "I'll take you into the palace tonight. The guards won't be there."

"Fine," Crea replied and took her seat as well beside Annityn.

--&--

The Mage tracked down Tage Yao and his troupe just as dusk began to settle over the city. His wooden staff thumped against the stone floor as he hobbled over to the young, handsome general.

"General Yao," the Mage rasped as he reached the general. Yao turned and faced him, as did the younger lieutenants and privates. "I require your assistance."

"Of course, Lord Mage," Yao said and bowed stiffly. The Mage smiled at his head, almost feeling the waves of detest rolling off the young boy. "Anything I can do to help you I would be honored."

"Take your men," he commanded lightly. "And scout the east wall of the city. I just remembered something… I want it checked out."

The Mage watched as Tage Yao's body stiffened. It would have gone unnoticed by anyone else but the Mage had trained himself to notice every subtle change in the boy. Tage Yao had grown up under the watchful eye of the Mage because of who he was the child of…

"Sir, but—"

"General Yao," the Mage said in his thickest, most powerful voice. "I know you planned west wall patrolling today with what little soldiers remain here, but I think it would be best if you scouted the east wall, in the alleys."

The attractive, well-formed lips of Yao thinned but he nodded stiffly. The Mage smiled cattily at him. They both knew about the secret passage way in the east sector of the city. And they both knew of the spies that had snuck in from there.

Of course, the Mage had not mentioned any of it to Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. He couldn't afford having the Lord General lingering in the city when the Holy City needed to fall. The last remaining threat needed to be eliminated. And spies were the last thing that needed to be worried about.

Especially if they didn't have a city to go home to.

"As you wish, Lord Mage," Yao said, trying to sound neutral. But the Mage sensed the underlying anger in his voice and it pleased him. He smiled.

He knew that Tage Yao worked against the city. And it was in the Mage's best interest that Yao continued to be a traitor. After all, the Mage had Yao monitored with his special brand of magick. If he found anything of importance the Mage would have all the information he needed to cease a coup.

And he enjoyed the fact that it bothered Tage Yao to have his attempts spoiled. He felt a presence in his city—people other than the spies—and knew that someone had come looking Keira Hagai Mar. Well, he needed her as well and whoever had planned on an ill-fated rescue would find themselves locked up, or worse.

As he walked he heard Tage Yao say in a tight, angry voice, "You heard him, soldier. Take your men and patrol the east sector."

It pleased him when the cadet answered in a fearful tone, "Yes sir."

Tage Yao was a force to be reckoned with, and when the time came, it would please the Mage to see him die.

--&--

Night swept across the land like a virus. Dark, willowy fingers seeping over the land in a downpour of black. The heat of the day dispersed, leaving a chill in the air, frigid breaths hovering above chattering lips.

"I—it's—free—freezing," Maelia muttered in angry repute as her fingers clutched the shivering skin of her arms. "I ha—hate the des—desert."

Aithne ignored her, but there was a small smile on her lips. No matter how far from reality everything seemed to feel, it was Maelia's innate ability to remind them that they were still living in the real world.

"When can we go in?" she asked from her perch on one of the wooden wagons Venn had supplied them with. His band of men, women, and children had left—Venn had said that. He had explained that he didn't want to endanger them so he had sent them to Donna-Rune until it was safer.

Now Venn was resting in the sand, drawing odd shapes there. He looked bored with life and scanned Sage-Harmona dispassionately.

"I want to wait until night has fully settled," Roid answered. He rested beside the flank of the wagon, propped up on his hind legs. He seemed to find the skin on his hand very interesting as he had not looked away from it since Venn had returned from sending his people off.

From his place beside her on the wagon, Cyren smiled. "Don't worry. We'll get in soon enough." He reached out and put a hand on her bared shoulder. Aithne worked to resist a shudder and kept her eyes focused on some point in the distance.

This wasn't helping… this thing between herself and Cyren. She knew he was aware of his own attraction to her, but she hoped he wasn't aware of hers to him. She didn't want to mess with what they had. A friendship could be destroyed if they… started something. Even if Cyren seemed more than willing to try it.

Of course he hadn't said that outright. He hadn't taken her shoulders, looked her in the eyes, and said:_ I want you_, but she sensed it. It was in the way he smiled at her, the way he tenderly put his hand on hers, or wrapped her in the circle of his arms, protective and warm.

She didn't like thinking about Cyren like that. But she couldn't stop it. Every moment made her more and more aware of Cyren, of his hair and his soft smell and his comforting smile. Her body had decided to move forward, with or without her consent.

"Alright. C'mon," Roid said as he left his position against the wagon. "We have to find Crea and Annityn before we can move into the palace."

"Good luck," Venn said from his seat on the ground. He looked at Aithne, Cyren, and Roid as they passed. "Be careful. Sage-Harmona has always had cruel tendencies toward introducers, before Hirmoyarbeshi became the Lord General."

"And what are we supposed to do?" Maelia grumbled as her friends disappeared into the cloak of the night. "Wait and do nothing."

"That's about it," Ryu answered in a no nonsense way.

"Like hell."

--&--

Aithne followed Cyren down the dark, low walls of the hidden cave that lead into Sage-Harmona. She was suddenly very glad she wasn't claustrophobic or she doubted she would have been able to stand another minute of it.

And poor Cyren, being as tall as he was, kept bashing his head against low hanging stones. The passageway was impossibly dark and it was unfeasible to see what hung out from the walls.

"Keep your head lowered," Roid snapped from his position in the front. He had been forced to stand on his two hind legs again or risk crushing his shoulders. "I told you the cave's ceiling is low hanging."

"I'm trying," Cyren retorted, sounding annoyed. It was a rare thing for him, to be snappish, but he voice was now and it was closed to being enraged, fueled by his frustration.

"Shh," Aithne said suddenly. "Hear that? Sounds like the wind." Her eyes were perked to the sensation in front of her. She did hear it, the sound of wind creasing the craggy rocks. Then it brushed her skin, giving her a chilled sensation.

"We've come to the opening," Roid muttered. "I can see a dim light. The end is just a few feet away." He waved a hand in the dark and it was suddenly more tangible, a blacker outline in the darkness.

"Thank the Goddess," Cyren muttered and Aithne saw him raise a hand to rub his skull. She almost giggled but stopped herself, half-ashamed. Aithne Hagai did _not_ giggle. Especially not around Cyren. The last thing she wanted to be was one of his groupies.

The dim light of candles reached her eyes and she came to the edge of the hidden passageway. Cyren hopped to the floor—a one-story drop—and held his hands out for Aithne in second-nature. She didn't have time to protest as he grabbed her by the waist and lowered her to the ground.

And when she had been lowered to the ground she didn't pull away. Cyren didn't push her away, either. She rested her head against his shoulder. Had Cyren always been that tall? Her head only reached his shoulders… and she had never noticed it before.

Beneath her head, she felt the expanse of his chest beneath her forehead. He was a lean, athletic man, but she could feel the rippling of his muscles beneath her skin. There was a strange tingling along her spine. What was that from?

"Aithne…" she heard Cyren say, but she was more concerned with how the name rumbled in the deep expanse of his chest.

If she had been looking at Roid she would have seen him roll his eyes and his back stiffen. He walked over to them, his dark eyes even darker and guarded. "We do not have time—"

"A _Metal Head_!" someone shouted and Cyren and Aithne jumped away. From the long alley they saw a soldier in chain mail staring at them. Behind him were two other soldiers. They all had looks of horror on their faces.

"Damnit," Roid hissed and pushed Cyren forward. "We most not allow them to warn anyone in the palace."

From his back Cyren withdrew his bow staff. A soldier came at him with a short, military sword. He swung and Cyren brought his staff up to block it. The steel head met the unbreakable metal and he flipped himself onto his back, his leg shooting out and connecting with the soldier's shin.

The soldier gave a long, moaning curse as he dropped to the ground in pain. Cyren lunged at him, bow staff ready to kill, and met his sword once more. He back-flipped away and landed on his feet, bent down in a fighting position. The soldier climbed to his feet as well and lunged. Cyren shot his foot out again, twisting it so it connected with the soldier's backside, and while the soldier went hurtling to the ground he brought the jagged end of his bow staff down onto the soft tissue of the soldier's neck.

Blood splashed onto his knees and feet. Cyren almost gasped and gagged in disgust, sickened by the smell of copper and the bright crimson pool that stained the dirty, decaying ground.

Roid had no problem taking down his enemy. His weight was more than enough and the sword of the soldier bounced off his thick hide. He batted the steel away, sending the sword clattering to the floor, and grabbed the neck of the soldier. His sharp talons pushed into the giving flesh of his neck.

The soldier thrashed wildly, rare fear for his life. For a moment Roid felt sad that he would snuff it out. Then he remembered that not only was this a human, this was a human who would _kill_ Cyren if he could. He growled and increased the pressure of his hold on the human's neck.

He kept on increasing it until he heard the signifying _snap_ of the bone. The body went limb beneath him and Roid pulled himself off it.

Aithne had immediately latched herself at the last soldier there. She barreled them both to the ground but she was the one at a disadvantage. She neither had the training nor the weight that Cyren and Roid had, respectively. And so despite her being the one on top, she was the one that would lose.

The soldier planted his feet at the base of her stomach when Aithne went to bring her sais down. He kicked forward with all his might and Aithne gave a small scream as she was sent hurtling to the ground. Her back hit the hard, stony ground hard and all her oxygen abandoned her lungs. She cursed and grappled for balance and unsteadily got to her feet.

"Aithne!" Cyren cried as he made his way over to her. He had seen her fall, of course, and it had caused a panic in his heart. It thudded wildly now against his chest. Then it lessened when he saw her climb shakily to her feet. "Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"The soldier has escaped," Roid pointed out as he watched the silver body disappear into the dark streets. "It will be impossible to get into the palace now. We should—"

"I'm not turning back," Aithne snapped. "I don't care if I have to fight the whole palace! I am _getting_ back my mother." She brushed passed Roid, glaring at him as she went.

"We're already in here," Cyren pointed out as he followed Aithne out of the alley. "Besides, what about Crea and Annityn? They still think the plan's in motion."

Roid was frowning as he followed the two teens. "They're very independent," he muttered in irritation. "I'm sure they'd be fine." Then a low, screeching sound filled the air. An alarm. They knew.

"Us on the other hand…"

--&--

"Something's wrong," Crea muttered as the siren filled the air. She glanced over at the dark-haired young woman at her side.

Annityn nodded. "Will they continue on to the palace or will they retreat?"

"The smart thing to do would be to retreat. However… this is _Jak's_ daughter we're talking about so…" A ghost of a smile touched Crea's lips as she lifted herself off from her seat. "We'll head to the palace."

"Very well. Please give me your arm." Annityn did not wait for a reply. She grabbed Crea's arm and guided her through the streets. Soldiers rushed passed her, muttering amongst themselves.

They didn't blink once at Annityn. It seemed that the soldiers of Sage-Harmona had all become accustomed to ignoring the young woman's presence.

Crea pulled her arm away from Annityn when they reached the palace. A cold shudder went down her spine as she stared at the palace. She felt as if someone had doused her with cold water and now she remained frozen in her spot. Annityn seemed to understand. Though her golden golem eyes gave away nothing to what she was feeling—if she was feeling—she waited for Crea.

"He's—he's… _here_," she whispered brokenly, staring up at the winding towers. A deep, course shudder shook her body.

Annityn did not need to be told who 'he' was. "I sensed his magick on you," she admitted, her voice soft not with emotion but because she sensed the moment called for softness. "The Mage has touched you as well."

For the first time, Crea looked at Annityn. Looked at her head. Beneath that coolness and detachment, in those golden, unnatural eyes, was something familiar. A look that Crea mirrored. A ripped, torn-to-pieces, soul.

"You too?" Crea asked and didn't elaborate. They didn't _need_ to elaborate their words. In this, she and Annityn were kindred spirits.

"Not unwillingly," Annityn admitted as she walked forward, forcing Crea to follow. "Not in the beginning. He created me, who I am. He programmed me to follow, and I followed. But I began to dread his touch. It is cold, like a reptile."

"I don't want to go in there, if he's in there…" Crea whispered weakly. For the first time she wanted to drop to her knees and sob. Memories swarmed her, overwhelming her. The sensation of being ripped from herself, of having her recollections being smeared and tainted returned to her core and all she wanted to do was scream.

"We must," Annityn told her without ceasing her pace. Crea was too weak to try to stop her. "The Mage will not hurt you if you are with me."

"And if he does?"

Silence. "I will fight him," she said at length. Her eyes darkened, and became guarded. Crea almost felt guilty. What did it feel like for Annityn to think of going against her creator? "I serve you now, not him."

"You don't serve us," Crea snapped. "You're helping us. We don't need servants."

Wisely, Annityn said nothing. They entered the deserted palace. All of the soldiers had rushed into the streets, attempting to capture the intruders.

"We must look out for General Tage Yao. He is still in the palace," Annityn told her.

"Who?"

"When Lord General Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi is not in the city, he is the commanding officer," she explained. "He will not let us pass so easily. He does not… trust me, or see me as a comrade."

"I just wanna find Keira Hagai and get out of here," Crea answered. "Let's not wait for Aithne and the others. We'll meet up with them after we get Keira. Then we can all leave as soon as possible."

"Very well," Annityn said with a small nod. "Follow me."

--&--

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

Maelia jerked her chin over her shoulder to glare at him through her long lashes. "I told you. You don't _have_ to come."

"Yeah," Ryu muttered in a harsh voice as he followed Maelia's small body in the darkness. "Right." _And what would I do if you got hurt, Maelia? It be all my fault. You know how that would make me feel?_

Of course, he didn't tell her that. The last thing he needed was Maelia's teasing.

But he was still asking himself why he was still following the damned girl like a lovesick puppy. _If she wants to go get herself killed that's her problem. Not mine._

Then he saw an image of Maelia at the mercy of heartless Sage-Harmona soldiers, curled into a vain ball of protection with big, diamond tears in her eyes.

His fingers tightened over his Peacemaker as rage pumped through his system. _Goddamnit._

As soon as Aithne and the others had left them, Maelia seemed to grow an uncharacteristic silence. Ryu had been suspicious since that moment. And when Venn had gone off to sulk and kick at the sand—_something about that Crea woman, I think_—Maelia had disappeared into the darkness. Suddenly knowing what she was planning, Ryu had cursed and followed.

And now here they were. Lost in this huge, hostile city with only a rusty Peacemaker for a weapon. Ryu wanted to grab Maelia, knock her into submission, and drag them both back to safety.

"At least tell me you know where you're going," he groaned out. Ryu knew Maelia didn't but he asked anyway.

"Of course I do," Maelia retorted and didn't sound convincing.

"Oh Mar help us." Ryu threw his eyes heavenward.

"Your sarcasm isn't appreciated."

"I wasn't aware I was looking for your appreciation," Ryu snapped back. He grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him. "I'm the one with the gun. Stay behind me and I'll lead if you're still insistent."

Maelia rolled her eyes and glowered at him. "My hero. Lead the way, 'O Fearless Leader." Her voice oozed sarcasm. Ryu could almost see it dripping down her chin. He glared at her.

"If I had my choice we wouldn't even be here."

"Well I wasn't waiting for Aithne and the others to get back!" Maelia said hotly. "Anything, they can do, I can do just as well! I won't wait back while everyone else risks their life."

"You're an idiot," Ryu hissed. _And damnit, I'm a bigger one because I think that's about the bravest thing I've ever heard._

"I know what you think of me," Maelia replied softly. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. There was something deep and dark reflecting in her brandy irises. Something that made him feel like a jackass.

Ryu cursed. _I know what you think of me._ What the hell was that supposed to mean? He was careful to never let her know what he thought of her. Thought of her pretty eyes, and pouty lips, and soft, buxom body.

There was no way she could know _that_. So why was she so upset? Was it because he teased her? Fought with her? But that was what they always did. Even with all that… all that _stuff_ between them—he tried not to think of all that stuff because it always got him hot and bothered—they were still friends, weren't they?

Why didn't it feel that way? Not matter what they did, Maelia and Ryu couldn't go back to their simple ways. There was too much between them now. Before they had been able to ignore it because they were younger, because it had never been a problem before. But now… now they knew what each other felt like. Maelia might not have been pleased with what she found but Ryu couldn't sleep for the wanting…

"Maelia," he began, not sure what he was opening his mouth to say. But his voice was tender, rare around her, and his hand itched to reach out and hold her. "I—"

"We're here," Maelia said curtly, effectively cutting him off.

Indeed they were. The Sage-Harmona palace was right in front of them. Ryu cursed at being cut off, but at the same time was relieved that he didn't have a chance to say what he was going to say. He still didn't know what he had planned on saying to her. _I'm sorry? I care about you? I love you?_

"C'mon," Ryu told and pushed the thoughts of his mind. What did it matter? Maelia wouldn't care either way. "Let's go in and find the others."

And just as they entered the world went upside down.

--&--

By the time the sirens went off, Jak Mar was already in the palace. Though Tage Yao had told him to wait until nightfall, Jak didn't trust the man. He was a Sage-Harmona soldier, after all.

So he had snuck into the palace earlier that day, using the map the young man had given to him. He had then waited for night fall in a small, cramped alcove above the hustle and bustle of the palace.

And just when he was about to lower himself to the ground, the shrill shriek went off. Jak had cursed viciously inside his head and kept himself in the alcove, his cramped bones screaming in protest.

"Intruder at the east sector!" one of the soldiers had said as they rushed by Jak's hiding place.

When Jak lowered himself to the ground, after no soldiers had passed him for a good fifteen minutes, he blinked. _What was that all about?_ Who would be trying to break into Sage-Harmona?

He shrugged. It didn't matter. He had to go get Keira. That was all that really mattered. His fingers closed over the thin paper he had tucked into his trouser belt. He unfolded the small, thin paper and the direction he would be taking.

Keira would be in the _Important Prisoners_ dungeon, wouldn't she? Where else could she be? Jak shook his head. He didn't have time to be doubtful. If he was wrong he would just look in another dungeon.

Jak followed the map's instructions to Keira's location and kept to the shadows. Though he didn't mind taking down a few Sage-Harmona soldiers if they got in his way he didn't want to take too long getting to Keira.

Who knew what they were doing to her? Jak didn't want to think about it.

But the palace was relatively empty. Most of the soldiers had been moved out of the city the previous day and the remaining ones had gone to fight the intruders.

The door to Keira's cell should be right in front of him. Jak tore his eyes away from the map and looked at the door. It was tall, thick, and locked. He growled and pressed his Blaster gun against the thick lock. He fired into the damn thing twice before the heavy metal clattered to the ground.

Making sure no one saw him or was heading his way, Jak kicked open the door and was almost swarmed by the darkness in it. He cursed and groped his way down. Wasn't there a light or something? But he couldn't find one.

But he knew Keira was here. He could _sense_ her. His hand shot out, groping at the air. Keira had to be around here some where. All he had to do was…

_There_.

His fingers locked around an arm, a cold arm. "Keira?" he croaked into the darkness. With a firm hand, he pulled himself closer. He felt the cool metal of the bed she was resting on, but when his fingers roamed her body he couldn't sense where her injuries were. There was a long, plastic tube stuck in her arm and Jak carefully pulled it out.

Keira moaned softly and relief swarmed Jak. If she could moan, it meant she could breathe, and if she could breathe that meant she was alive.

Tenderly, he cradled her body against his in the dark. There were promises on his lips and he whispered them into her hair over and over again, incoherent words streaming from his mouth from the waves of gratitude that washed over him.

They had to get out of here. Jak had to see how badly injured Keira was. He gathered her close to his chest, her body reclining against his arms, and then hurried from the dark and dank dungeon.

Just as he stepped into light of the palace, the world tilted beneath Jak's feet.

Dizzily, the rooms twisted and shifted and he was suddenly completely lost.

--&--

"What's going on?" Crea demanded as she almost fell against Annityn. The young woman grabbed her arm and helped her remain standing.

"The Mage…" Annityn muttered darkly. "He is now informed of our presence."

She gasped wildly and was half ashamed to find her head jerking around, looking for the sight of him. "Is he here?"

"No. He would not suspect us," Annityn answered. "Or he will not bother with us because he thinks that I serve him still. He must have become aware of—"

"Aithne, Roid… Cyren," Crea answered for. "You think they're in trouble?"

"If the Mage has them, then I think that they will be dead," Annityn answered calmly. "But if we can find them then there may be a chance to…"

"Let's go then!" Crea ordered and grabbed Annityn's wrist, guiding the girl through a series of twisting hallways before she stopped. She looked over at the young girl as she remained silent. "Do you know _where_ to go?"

"No. It is a spell the Mage has cast. The hallways have become traps. The best thing to do is not to turn down hallways, but continue in one swift direction. If we are near the exit, we will sense the lessening of magick," Annityn explained. Without any more words, she and Crea ran down the long, long hallways, injuring the many breaks and new hallways.

"We have to find Aithne, too," Crea pointed out on their run.

--&--

Even with guards chasing them, Cyren, Aithne, and Roid managed to get into the palace without much trouble. The soldiers that remained within the city limits were untrained, raw recruits.

Roid lead Aithne and Cyren along the series of slanted roofs of Sage-Harmona. If they were quiet and fast, they would not be spotted.

"Soldiers are not trained to look up," Roid explained.

They landed softly on their feet as they jumped from the last house to the grounds in front of the palace. As fast as they could without making any noise. Aithne had her sais out and was determined to hold her own this time, Cyren's bow-staff was within reach, and Roid's body was rigid, ready to pounce.

But nothing could have prepared them for when they walked into the palace. The world gave way beneath their feet and Aithne moaned as the world spun out of control. She shut her eyes against the spinning, her stomach quivering in protest.

When she did open her eyes, they weren't standing in the same room anymore. It was dark and endless. Cyren had a hand on her arm, but it seemed weak. The spinning had taken energy from him as well.

"What was _that_?" she managed, looking over at Roid. He had pushed himself to two feet again, a claw cupping his forehead.

The Metal Head looked over at her. "A spell. Someone with power must know we're here and is trying to stop us."

"What should we do?" she asked and looked around. "Go down one of these hallways?" She stepped toward one, her hand reaching out.

"_No!_" Roid shouted but it was already too late.

"Aithne!" Cyren gasped. Half her body had disappeared the moment she had stepped into it. And the rest of her body was quickly following. He grasped her wrist just as it was about to disappear. He felt something pull him into the hallway and he was sent hurtling forward, Aithne's body right below him.

Roid stepped toward the hallway but did not enter it. It was pointless, he knew. The spell would just put him in a different hallway, not the one Cyren and Aithne had been taken to.

His best chance was to try and find whoever had put the spell on the palace and make him pull it off. It was the only way to find Cyren and Aithne again.

_Just stay out of trouble, Cyren,_ he thought as he turned and started to run down the long length of the hallway. _I'll never forgive you if you make me break my promise…_

--&--

Ryu moaned stiffly as he came-to. He lifted his head and reached out for Maelia. She was still beside him, but he saw her chest rising and falling evenly. "Mae?" he called and she moaned and rolled away from him. "Get up."

"What?" she groaned as she sat up. "Mar… I have this headache," she told him as her hand moved to touch the strawberry blonde curls on her head.

"Tell me about it."

"What happened?" Maelia asked as she stood. Ryu got to his feet two, surprised that the world was no longer spinning on its axis anymore.

"I wish I knew." He looked around them. They were in a completely different room from the one they had entered. It was circular and brown, with a balcony overlooking it. There were warning bells going off in Ryu's head.

It looked like an arena or… an executioner's box.

He grabbed Maelia hand and as she gasped in surprise and pain, he snapped, "We have to get out of here. _Now_."

"Why?"

"This is not a good place to be. I can feel it." Ryu pulled her against his side, his hand sliding down to grip her hips. Possessively. They explored the wide room, but couldn't find their way out.

"This can't be good!" Maelia moaned as she stared, wild-eyed, around the room. "We can't find an exit!"

"Why would you want to leave?" a voice asked and Maelia and Ryu jerked their gazes to the balcony above them.

A man stood there now. An aging man, with a long white beard and black, beady eyes. His face was craggy, wizen, and war-torn. He was short, but lean with long fingers that curled around the golden staff at his side. At the top of his golden staff sat a golden statue of a phoenix, its wings curled beneath it.

"Who are you?" Ryu demanded as he placed Maelia behind him.

"I have many names. None of which would have any meaning to you," the old man replied and raised his staff. "And this is what I do to intruders."

Behind him, Maelia gave a piercing scream. Ryu turned and managed to catch her just as the young woman's knees gave out beneath her. She gripped her head, as if her skull was cracking in two, and screamed again.

"_Maelia_?" Ryu whispered as he lowered her to the ground. She didn't answer him. She turned her head and screamed again. He glared up at the Mage, hatred burning his eyes. "What the _fuck_ have you done to her?"

"I'm always cruel to the women," the Mage mumbled. "Possible because it was a woman who damned me. But I wouldn't worry about your girlfriend at the moment." He waved his staff once more.

Ryu gasped and dropped Maelia's body. She rolled limply to the floor, shaking her head and moaning again and again, "_No_… _no_…"

His lungs were being pressed deep into his chest. Ryu clutched at the loose fabric of his tunic and tried to drag in a breath. He couldn't. Something clogged the passage of his throat and no oxygen could pass through. He fell to his stomach, weak. His throat rasped with each failed attempt at breathing.

The Mage laughed softly and leaned back to watch them die.

--&--

"We can't go back," Aithne said angrily as she pressed her fingers against the solid walls behind her. She had come through there, she knew she had, so why couldn't she go back?

Cyren shrugged. "Let's just keep moving. This place feels wrong."

She nodded and allowed him to lead. There was an eerie silence in the brown and stone halls. Aithne wanted to scream just so it would be full with noise. Instead, she sealed her lips shut and kept her eyes focused on Cyren's back.

For what seemed like an endless eternity they walked with no sign that the hallways would ever end. Aithne was growing annoyed. She hated this. Hated walking when her mother could be in _trouble_.

And then Cyren was backing up, pushing Aithne back. Over her shoulder she spotted the soldiers. Only… only they weren't normal. Normal soldiers, or people. Their moves were sluggish and unaware. They approached Cyren and Aithne with shuffling feet.

"What are they?" Aithne breathed.

Cyren didn't even get the chance to answer. With a movement too fast too be human, one of the soldiers was between them. Aithne screamed and she and Cyren jumped apart. She barely had time to withdraw her sais before the soldier brought his sword down upon her head.

Sparks leapt from the clashing metal as Aithne's stared into the soldier's eyes. The pupils were dilated and emotionless, dead. Like Annityn's eyes only without the gold in them. She kicked and sent the thing jumping back. It lunged again and she spun away, back-flipping ungracefully, dodging a fatal blow.

When the soldier made his way toward her, she lashed out with her sais. It connected with the things shoulder. Blood splattered across her hand as Aithne drove them both to the ground. She took her second sai and stabbed it in the chest, aiming for the place where its heart should be.

Dizzily, Aithne got to her feet and felt just a bit sick. Ignoring the nausea in her stomach, she turned to Cyren. He had impaled his enemy with his bow-staff and held the soldier against the wall until his struggling ceased.

"What where those things?" Aithne mumbled tiredly as Cyren reached out for her. She allowed him to grip her wrist.

"They're the soldiers… or, at least, they had been," Cyren answered. "I don't know what made them like that… but I don't want to stick around and find out."

She nodded in agreement and together they ran down the halls again. The endless halls.

And abruptly it came to an end.

--&--

Not far away, Crea and Annityn had run into the same problem as Aithne and Cyren. They had been attacked in the dark hallways.

But they handled themselves well. Crea dodged each attack easily and riddled her enemies with bullets. Annityn had pulled out her spear and with a flurry of acrobat moves managed to incapacitate all her enemies.

She stabbed the creature closest to her and using it to flip herself over. She landed gracefully behind the soldier and pulled out of her spear. Even as the first soldier collapsed to the ground, Annityn was stabbing the one directly behind it.

"Why are they… like this…?" Because it was hard to find the correct words to describe them, Crea motioned to their dead bodies.

"It is the Mage," Annityn explained. "His spell has twisted the palace to keep us trapped and anyone that remains within the palace that is not an enemy becomes his slave."

"He's harsh…" Crea said and a film of hatred masked her face. "His life needs to end."

"Perhaps, but this is not the time," Annityn pointed out softly as she returned her spear to the strap on her back. "The Mage is too strong. Another time."

Crea nodded because she had no real hope of ever facing the man who had destroyed her life again. "Alright. Lead the way." Annityn took off without another word and Crea followed her.

--&--

The Mage watched in great humor as Ryu struggled to keep breathing. It was pointless. His magick was locked securely around the boy's organs. Each moment, the pressure of his magick increased. Soon, all oxygen to the boy would cease and then he would die.

And the girl?

He smiled ruthlessly. The girl would end up killing herself before it was through. He hadn't gone deep into her mind, but then again her problems had been boiling on the surface. _Daddy doesn't love me, Mommy doesn't understand me, my brother is dead, and Ryu sees me as a little girl…_

It had been easy—almost _too_ easy—to pick an image and plaster it in front of her eyes, make her only see the twisted image he wanted her to see. And he had chosen the one he knew that would hurt her the most.

How could these be the threat? They were nothing more then children pretending to be adults.

But he had sensed danger. His magick had shot out and felt the impending doom of his plan. Surely, not these children?

There was movement to his left, but by the time the warnings of his magick reached him a gun was pointed at his chest. He stared down at it dispassionately. It was connected a dark, scaly arm with a purple tinge. That arm was connected to the long, lean flank of a Metal Head with a glowing yellow skull.

A cruel, menacing smile pulled across his cheeks as he stared into the dark, hate-filled eyes of the creature. "Going to kill me?" he questioned without any real conviction in his voice.

"Yes," the Metal Head replied. "But first, release those children."

"Why should I?" the Mage questioned and tightened his hold on Ryu's chest. Below them, the boy gave a small howl of pain. "I'm enjoying myself."

The Metal Head growled and the Mage felt the press of danger in magick. "For Kiff Fire!" he thundered and pulled the trigger.

The words were on his lips even before that. A golden shield rose between them and the bullets were reflected. The Metal Head jumped away and landed beside the moaning boy and girl.

His connection snapped. The spell that he had placed on the palace tore away from him and he felt the palace shift back to normality. The hold he had on Ryu and Maelia left him.

He cursed in disappointment and left the room before the Metal Head decided to come back for him.

--&--

Ryu was being dragged to his feet. But that wasn't what had him so grateful. It was the big gulps of air he was finally able to drag in.

"Roid?" he asked when he saw the purple, scaly chest stretched over thin bones. But it couldn't be Roid, could it? This Metal Head was too thin.

"Don't insult me, boy," came the answer in his foggy brain. He nodded, too weak to protest, and turned to Maelia.

"Mae-Mae," he said softly as he cradled her curved, small body in his arms. She moaned and turned into the warmth of his chest. "Wake up, darling."

She moaned again and her eyes fluttered once before opening them. Her eyes were filled with tears and she gripped the fabric of his shirt. "It's all my fault," she said, softly, weakly.

"What is?" he asked her as he helped her to her feet. "C'mon, Mae-Mae, talk to me."

"We do not have time. We must flee." The, strange new Metal Head that had saved them, turned down the hall that had just reappeared. "I have seen your camp on the outskirts of the city. I will take you to them."

He nodded and picked Maelia up in his arms. She didn't protest but buried her head into his shoulder. Ryu followed the Metal Head.

--&--

When the palace was returned to its normal state, the backlash of magick hit Cyren and Aithne full on. She gasped as they both clattered to the ground. Cyren fell on top of her and her fingers clutched at his shirt. They locked around the silver medallion hidden under his shirt and the silver slid out, hanging in front of her face.

"Looks like the spell is gone," he mumbled weakly, still dazed by the powerful wave of magick that had washed over.

Before Aithne could answer she became aware of the click of boots heading towards them. She looked away from Cyren and up at the figure that approached. She almost groaned. She didn't have the energy for another fight.

"What are you—?" a voice asked and Cyren tried to stumble to his feet, only succeeding in rolling away from Aithne and onto his back. The medallion that Zen-Fai had given him slid down his throat and onto the floor.

Weakly, Aithne watched as the figure bent down beside Cyren. She couldn't make out his features because he was tall and her eyes were too weak too focus. But she could see powerful hands circling the silver pendant and picking it up.

"Where did you…" It was a man's voice that spoke, deep and powerful. Cyren couldn't seem to focus on it. "Where did you get this?"

"My—my father," Cyren rasped.

"Your father?" There was a long pause and then the man pulled Cyren up and bent down to do the same too Aithne. "You have to get out of here. _Now_. Take this hallway down. It will lead you to the main hall. Do _not_ come back."

And then he was gone. Aithne watched him go, seeing only the vibrant red of his shirt as he went. Cyren grabbed her upper arm and she let him drag her down the hallway.

They followed the long path until they reached the wide, circular entrance room. It had darkened considerably since they had entered. Aithne wanted to stop moving, her head was pounding. And what about—

Her mother!

"We didn't get my mother!" she screeched. Cyren looked over at her in sympathy. "No. We have to go back and get her!"

"Aithne—"

"I'm not leaving without her!" she cried.

"There you are!" someone said and Annityn and Crea appeared from the hallway on the left. "We have to get out of here."

"What about—"

But then Aithne stopped speaking because someone else was coming down the third, and final, hallway. The third hallway was darker than all the others and Aithne could only make out two figures in the darkness, not their features.

And then they stepped into the light. The first thing Aithne noticed was Keira. And relief swarmed her. Her mother, relatively unharmed, in the strong arms of—

Then she looked up at the man who had rescued her. And she gasped. It was almost as if she was looking into the mirror. Her eyes—_her eyes_—stared back at her, wide and surprised.

She recognized him. Recognized him because she had seen his picture everyday in Haven City. In posters and books and flyers. But this didn't make sense.

He was supposed to be _dead_.

But there he was. Jak Mar, her father, standing right before her. As far from dead as one could get. Her world tilted on its axis and only one thought made it past her suddenly numb brain.

Jak Mar was alive.

"No," she whispered.

* * *

**AN:** and, now, a cliffhanger because I can. Plus, this thing was as long enough as it is. I want Aithne to have _plenty_ of time to react to Jak's not being dead.

**Act XVI:** Aithne is not a happy camper. And Jak's not dead. That _can't_ be good.

**Reviews**

**Carree:** thank you very so much, darling. XD I've been waiting for this too, if you can imagination, bringing Jak back into the action, meet his daughter, be angsty and moody.

**Xazz:** Crea one of my favorite OCs ever. First, because she was insane, and next because she goes through so much. Is it cruel that I like to make all my OCs suffer?

**Specter Von Baron:** I know what you mean. I've been watching Dane Cook's _Tourgasm_ and it just makes me giddy right to me bones. I watch Dane Cook and then the man makes me want to dance. Of course, then I watch _Lost_ right after and… I get sad

**GundamWingFanatic90:** yay! And you're right, it was Annityn! She's got her name now. And I'm just psyched about the fanart. The fact that you don't have scanner doesn't mean anything. It's getting there! Yay for me! …and you!

**jaklover123:** well, when has leaving a Metal Head alive ever been a _good_ thing? Hehe. We'll have to find out.

**Teh Kitsune:** Cyren is supposed to be cute, I'm glad you got that. That's why he's the foil to Aithne. And I'm going to have fun with Annityn because, obviously, she's getting some of her human emotions back. Oh, and I hope the ages helped you!

**ChatterBox101:** no, Venn has never figured out what happened to Crea. And, since I don't right anything without romance, obvious there will be more Maelia/Ryu, Keira/Jak, everyone.

**Darkening Light:** wow, you're the first person who's been disgusted with Aithne's attitude. I expected more of that, merely because she was hating on Jak. I personally understand Aithne's reaction. Guy's been dead all her life, mother's never gotten over it, and she's constantly feeling like she's in his shadow. But then that could be because she's _my_ OC. XD And, ah… could you _define_ 'happy ending'? Hehehe…


	16. The Living Ghost

**Disclaimer:** while I would like to own Jak… let's be realistic here

**Author's notes:** yes. This is late. This is late _again_. In fact, let's stop kidding ourselves here. School's started, I've got SATs and colleges and AP exams to worry about. And I might just end up with a job at _Target_. So, while nothing is stopping this Mammoth, it's going be slow going until next break

**Warnings:** if you didn't already, you might just hate Aithne when we're done

**EDIT:** more ages. This time the Jak's ages. Mind you, none of this is official. I'm speculating here. If there's anyone I forgot let me know

Jak- 37

Keira- 36

Ashlin- 39

Torn- 39

Sig- early 60s

Samos- DECEASED

Roid- age unknown

Sala- 35

Gareth- 36

Zen-Fai- DECEASED

Daxter- 37

Tess- 36

* * *

**Act XVI: The Living Ghost **

If anyone had told Aithne at any point of her young, hate-filled life, that one day she would be standing before her wayward father she wouldn't have laughed at you. She wouldn't have called you crazy or a jackass. She wouldn't have smiled at the ridiculousness of it.

She would have punched you.

Then she would have spat on you and stormed away, claiming that Jak Mar was no father of hers. She wouldn't have found any humor in any of it.

"How exactly did you find us again?" Cyren demanded as they came up along Aithne's side, his eyes on the Metal Head and not the horrible image in front.

"Your scent," Roid supplied, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Cyren had asked it for the sixth time. "I can track both you and Aithne by your scents."

"Oh." Then he looked toward Aithne and finally saw what she saw. "_Goddess_…"

Here he was. Her father—her _sperm donor_—standing before Aithne with her mother in his arms. His eyes were just as wide as hers and staring at her the way she stared at him. Jak Mar and Aithne Hagai, father and daughter reunited.

Around them the palace shook and the walls crumbled. Annityn was mumbling to Crea about the anger of the Mage. But Aithne heard none of it, understood none of it. All there was in her world was Jak Mar's eyes staring at her own matching pair, never looking away.

Words wanted to tumble from her mouth. Every hate filled word that she had ever thought of during her life swelled against her breast, threatening to destroy her. And yet, that wasn't what she wanted to say to him most. No, she wanted to demand to know. Wanted to beat her palms against his muscular chest and sob.

_Why? Why aren't you dead?_

Cyren gripped her arms painfully, dragging her to him. "Aithne, we have to go! The palace is collapsing! The Mage will have us again."

It was like being snapped out of a trace. Aithne jerked away, shuddering. She turned her head and glared heatedly at her father as he came closer. Jak Mar stopped in his tracks and stared at her in confusion. "_No_. I'm not going anywhere with _him_."

Jak Mar stared at her, stared and stared and stared as if no matter what his brain told him his heart could not comprehend. "What—"

"I _hate_ you!" she screamed as loudly as she could, the words torn from her throat. "_I hate you_! Why aren't you dead?"

"There's no time!" Roid shouted and thrust Aithne into Cyren awaiting arms. The blonde-haired boy picked her trembling, rage-filled body up.

Crea looked at Aithne with a slightly sympathetic face. "Later." She faced Jak and held out a hand, motioning. "Jak, follow us."

_No_, Aithne thought but didn't have the energy to talk anymore. She turned into Cyren's arms and buried her face into his chest, holding back tears. _He's supposed to be dead… dead! How can he do this to us? All these years he's been… alive…?_

Hate burned her. Hate for him, hate because of it. Everything that had gone wrong in her life was _his_ fault. Her life, her inability to join the Krimzon Guard, her screwed-over attitude, her friendships, her relationships. And her mother… God, her mother.

_She cried herself to sleep every night thinking he was dead! But he's not! He's alive, the bastard!_

Everything was happening so fast. She couldn't adjust. She wanted to bash her head against a wall until she passed out. Then she wanted to wake up and all this to be dream. Keira hadn't been kidnapped, Jak was still dead, and everything… everything was back to normal again.

Nothing would ever be normal again.

They moved swiftly through the palace, along the back-alleys and hidden pathways Annityn lead them down. Aithne was carried by Cyren and Keira was carried by Jak and no one spoke a word.

At the wall with the secret entrance two guards were watching them. Annityn motioned for Roid to lead the rest to the passage. Roid nodded to her and left Annityn to do her job.

The girl rushed toward the guards, dragging out her spear. Roid and the others moved behind her back. One of the guards turned and blinked at her.

"What are you—" he began as the other guard turned to face her. The young soldier never got to finish his sentence. Annityn slammed her spear into his face and sent the poor, gurgling boy to the ground, splattering his blood ruthlessly.

The other guard screamed and fell to his rump before scrambling to his feet and rushing away. Annityn fingered her spear and knew she could kill him as he ran away but somehow… she didn't want to.

Aithne wasn't even sure how long they ran, how far. All she was aware of was the rapid beating of her heart and the hatred that fueled the pumping of her blood. She wanted to make Jak Mar suffer more than she had anyone else in her entire life. This man _deserved_ to suffer. Deserved to know what if felt like to be without him, to have her life ruined because of him.

And then they were out. Aithne gulped in huge breaths of the night air. Cyren placed her on her feet. She brushed at the tears she hadn't realized prickled at the corners of her eyes.

Then, with stiff shoulders and shaking fists, she turned to face Jak Mar.

Her father.

A man who should be _dead_.

--&--

"Keep up!" the Metal Head snapped, glancing over his shoulder at Maelia and Ryu as they labored behind him. "The Mage is gonna have a field day when he recovers from the shock I gave him."

"Do you think Aithne and the others are alright?" Maelia huffed as she tried to keep up with Ryu and the Metal Head.

"I'm sure they're alright. They have Annityn," Ryu pointed out and then added. "Let's just keep up."

Maelia nodded and fell silent. Only, she didn't want to be silent. Being silent meant she wouldn't talk. Not talking meant she would think. Thinking meant she would go over what had happened with the Mage.

What he had put inside her.

The memory flashed in Maelia's head and she could not shake it from her. She didn't think she would ever be able to shake it from herself. For the rest of her days—however long or short they might be—she would remember that horrid and twisted image the Mage had pushed into her brain.

_Lee, only older, handsome, smiling, sitting with her parents around their dinner table like she had done so many times before. _

_Only her parents were smiling at well. Tess didn't have her plastered on smile. It was genuine and pure and happy. And Daxter… sweet Goddess, her _daddy_… was smiling, too. And it wasn't distant, far away, or mournful. It was everything Maelia had ever wanted to see on her father's face. It was happy and joyful and real and… and… completely Daxter. The goofy, ridiculous Daxter he had been before he had become a defeated, broken man. _

_They were talking around the kitchen table, laughing at Lee's antics. His hair was bright blonde and flat around his head and wet, like he had just gotten back from swimming. He waved his fork around, smiling at his mother and father. _

_And, Maelia noticed, she was not there. _

_"See how happy they are?" a voice had whispered into her ear, like a snake. "See how happy they would be if you weren't alive."_

_"No," Maelia had whispered even as she saw it. Her heart made her deny it, but her mind had already accepted it as the solid truth. _

_"Yes. Everything would be perfect if you were the one dead and Lee alive."_

Maelia had wanted to deny it. Had wanted to close her mind off to it and pretend the thought had never penetrated her brain. And yet… how could she when her own thoughts had often wondered the same thing?

They made it out of Sage-Harmona, by the front gate. They followed the Metal Head around the tall walls of the city without offering a word of protest.

And then the Metal Head was turning to them, scanning them and remembering their features. Ryu placed himself in front of Maelia protectively, glaring into the Metal Head's eyes.

"Your camp should be a small walk away from here," the Metal Head explained and pointed to the west. "Best hurry before the guards come after you." Then he turned and started to run away.

"Wait!" Ryu called suddenly, stepping forward. The Metal Head turned and faced him, waiting for what he had to say. "Why are you helping us?"

"I have my reasons," the Metal Head answered. "And they didn't start out as helping you. I was mostly trying to study the Mage. You just happened to need some saving."

"Your name?" Ryu demanded.

"Is of no concern to you," the Metal Head replied and turned on his heel, running off into the desert and the sinking sun before another question could be asked.

Huffing in slight annoyance, Ryu turned to Maelia and muttered, "I think I liked them better when they _couldn't_ talk." He glared in the direction the Metal Head had scurried off in. "Never thought I'd actual be snapped at by a Metal Head. Not metaphorically anyway."

But she wasn't looking at him. Maelia's eyes were far away, distant, lost in the sands of the desert. She stared and stared and stared, almost not breathing.

"Mae?" Ryu whispered and took her arm, pulling her body close to his. It was cold, he realized with a shock. Frigid. Like she had just stepped out of a freezing lake. It frightened him. That and her distant eyes. "Mae?"

She snapped out of her trance and looked at him, her lips parted slightly. "Ryu?" she asked, her voice soft.

They realized how close they were standing. Their bodies pressed together, emulating heat, almost fusing their skin together. Her hands were caught between his chest and his fingers had risen to grip her wrist, keeping them immobile.

And her lips were parted slightly, and his face was only inches away. Their breathing deepened as they stared up at each other, neither sure how they got into the position but neither willing to pull away.

Ryu started to lower his head, taking the gentle dip down. Maelia stared at the scene as if she was cut off from it. Her mind reeled. _Let him… or not let him?_ She wanted to kiss, had wanted to kiss him since that failed one in her bedroom.

But even as she started to close the distance between them she remembered… his disgust, horror. He still thought her a child. Even now.

"We should find Aithne… see if they're alright," she said softly and pulled away. Her heart, her body, protested. Her mind didn't.

"Alright," he agreed, his eyes dark and guarded.

Silently, guarded, they made their way down toward Venn and whoever was with him. As they ascended the hill that led down to their meeting place, Maelia squinted and then grinned.

"Look! Aithne and the others. They're all right," she told Ryu and looked over at him with a small smile. Then she looked back and blinked as they came closer. "But look, someone's with them. That tall blonde. Who _is_ that?"

Beside her, Ryu's eyes went wide. He grabbed her arm to stop her from moving. Maelia looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. "Jak Mar," he said hoarsely.

Instantly, her head was shaking. "Impossible. He's dead." But she looked over at the blonde she had noticed before. There was something… familiar about him. "Oh God… what about Aithne?"

Together, they hurried down the hill to their friend's side.

--&--

"Let me see her," the dark-haired man in desert gear said as he approached them. Jak's eyes narrowed at him and tightened his hold on Keira's limp body.

"Jak," Crea said calmly, as she came over to him. "This is Venn. My _friend_. He knows about magick. He might be able to help Keira."

He glanced at her, into her distant and cold eyes. It was Crea, even if she didn't act like the young girl he had once known. He nodded jerkily and handed his wife over to the dark-haired youth, who accepted her tenderly. Venn turned toward the wagon behind him, holding Keira tenderly against his chest.

And then he had no choice. After seventeen long years Jak did what he had begun to give up hope of ever doing.

Jak faced his child.

His daughter.

The girl—_Aithne; her name is Aithne… I don't even know my own child's name_—was staring at him with blazing eyes that matched his own. Her lithe body, so much like Keira's, was trembling with rage as she stared. Her tiny fingers were curled into fists at her hips and her lips trembled with rage.

There was a boy beside her—tall, blonde, attractive—and he had a soothing hand on her shoulder. He leaned down, mumbling words into her ear in some distant attempt to heal her.

A thousand different questions filled Jak's mind. _What is your life like? Do you know me? Who is the boy? Are you dating… married? Do you even know I'm your father?_

But he couldn't say them. Couldn't say them because the raw, unbridled hatred in her eyes burned him, seared his throat shut.

Throughout the years, Jak had tortured himself with the image of returning home to the family he had left behind. Sometimes he would be welcomed with opened arms, by a son or a daughter and Keira, and sometimes he would return to find his family in shambles, his home destroyed, everything ruined.

Never, though, never had he imaged he would be standing feet away from his child with his matching eyes glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill he would be tiny, cut-up pieces of Jak meat.

He opened his mouth. She did, too. Jak closed his to let her speak.

And then… she did. "How _could_ you?" she screeched at Jak, stepping toward him before jumping back. Aithne's motions were jerky, confused. "How could you be _alive_? You're supposed to be dead. _Dead_, you hear me?"

Jak stared at her, not sure what to do or say. What could he say? There was a hatred in his daughter. Hatred for him. It reminded him, bitterly, of himself when he was younger. And he had never, NEVER, wanted anyone else to ever feel that hatred.

Now it plagued his daughter and it… was all his fault.

Aithne moved forward, a fist raised to swing.

Instead of swinging, she threw herself at him. The weight of her surprised Jak and they went tumble to the ground, Aithne trying to tear apart as much of his body as she could. Jak was too shocked, too saddened, too emotionally weary to care.

"You sonofabitch! You sonofabitch!" Aithne screeched as she plowed one of her fists into Jak's face. Dust and tears caked her face as she clawed at him, kicked at him, did everything she could think of to cause him pain.

And it wouldn't be enough, it would never be enough. Nothing would compensate for the damage he had done to her, to her life. But she was willing to try. She hit him hard in his face, and Jak's nose flowed with blood.

But, God, she wished he would fight back. Wished he would defend himself. If he fought back, Aithne could keep on going. If only he would struggle with her, then her hate would have more fuel and she could keep on going.

She felt exhausted emotionally and physically from the grief and rage that had welled up in her chest. Welled up for so long and finally freed.

"I hate you!" she rasped out, slamming her fist down on his chest. Jak didn't look at her. He was focused on the sky. She hated him even more. But the fists she pressed onto him were weak and tired.

"_Aithne_!" the blonde boy shouted. Strong arms picked up Aithne as she slumped forward. She shuddered into them, shaking with tears and hate. But still, she struggled to her feet, struggled against the comforting arms that held her.

Jak stood up, wiping absently at his nose. It felt like something inside him was breaking, no, shattering. He never felt so much hate in his life and it was from his daughter. And it was aimed at him.

His daughter _hated_ him.

The daughter Jak never knew looked up at the blonde, unshed tears marring her dazzling eyes. She sniffled and without warning threw herself into his arms, sobbing passionately against his shirt.

"I hate him! I hate him, Cyren! He ruined my life," she sobbed brokenly, her voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt. Cyren ran his fingers through her hair.

"There, there," he soothed and let her sob against him.

And Jak was left standing in front of them, feeling out of place and angry about it. This was _his_ daughter. It didn't seem right that he couldn't be the one to soothe her. He wanted to. His fingers itched to take her into his arms, to hold and pacify. How many times he had imaged doing so when that bastard Lokin had told him Keira had given birth to a baby girl? His little girl.

Only she wasn't a little girl and she had never been _his_ little girl. Jak had forfeited his chance at fatherhood when he had become Lokin's _humble servant_.

_Not by choice,_ Jak thought as a growl worked its way up into his throat.

"Keep him away from me," Aithne sobbed against Cyren's chest, her voice muffled. "Keep him away from me or I'll kill him. I swear, I'll kill him."

Cyren sent Jak a look—not one of hate, just a look—and simply held Aithne against him, knowing that whatever needed to be said, both he and Aithne needed to hear it. Jak resisted the bile that rose in his throat as he remembered the way his daughter had looked at him.

The dark-haired girl that had led them out of the palace approached him, her golden eyes cool and measuring. "Jak Mar, current age 37, husband to Keira Hagai—formally Kinover—and father to one daughter, Aithne Hagai. Believed to have died seventeen point two years ago. Data incorrect."

He wanted to back away from her. But didn't. This girl didn't even seem _human_. Her eyes were too distant, cold and far away.

"It _is_ you!" a new voice gasped and Jak turned as a strawberry blonde girl approached him, escorted by an older, auburn-haired boy.

"Where have you two been?" Venn demanded and the boy beside the girl gave a shrug as an uneasy answer.

It was easy to recognize them. The girl had Daxter's look about her—or the Daxter _before_ his son had died, the happy and carefree one—and her eyes were big and brandy, like Daxter's. And the boy… well, Jak had known Ryu before he had left. He had grown into the man Jak had always pictured he would, strapping, somewhat demure, but lacking the hardness of his parents.

What had happened? When he had left Maelia hadn't even been born and Ryu had been a skinny boy with eyes too wide for his face. Yet Ryu was a man—and looked eerily similar to his father—and Maelia a full-grown woman.

For a moment he couldn't breathe, couldn't handle it. Somehow he had never thought things would actually change _without_ him. As foolish and impossible as it was, Jak had thought that the world would simple stop for him and hold itself in a snapshot and wait for him to return to it.

Obviously not.

"Jak Mar…" Ryu stated calmly and his eyes narrowed. Jak almost expected himself to yelled at once again. But the anger faded and the boy looked tired. "Why aren't you dead?"

"It's a long story," Jak answered and felt his shoulders tense. He wondered how to handle Ryutaro Praxis-North. This man wasn't a boy anymore and Jak doubted a hug would do anyone any good. "And it would be best if you didn't know… yet. You could get into trouble if I did."

"Don't you think we deserve an explanation?" Daxter's daughter cried in disbelief and it caused Jak to flashback. Sandover Village, Sentinel Beach, the Forbidden Jungle, all those things that had made him and Daxter young and innocence reflected in the back of her eyes, coated in a cynicism that was a gift from Haven. "For seventeen years everyone—your friends, your family—thought you were dead. And you weren't. This whole time you _weren't_! Please, we need to know."

They were all so much of everything he had once been that he wanted to shout his anger to the heavens. Why had he missed this? This growing up, this cultivating of the next generation. Hadn't it been his _right_ be a part of it?

And he couldn't stand that they looked at him like he was a stranger. Someone they didn't know. It wasn't supposed to _be_ like that.

"Jak has his reasons for keeping this a secret from you," Crea said levelly as she stepped into the conversation. Jak threw her a look of thankfulness. "It would be wise to understand what he is saying."

"But—" The girl's argument seemed to have fallen from her as she weakly protested.

"You're Daxter's daughter, aren't you?" Jak cut in, trying to sound light when all he wanted to do was demand news of his friends and family.

In slight confusion, he watched as the girl's eyes darkened in sadness. "Yes, he's my father…" She sounded almost… _unsure_… of what she was saying.

For now, because so much was going on, Jak ignored that lit in her tone. Instead, he looked at the young man at her side. "Ryu?"

"Yeah," the boy answered, reluctantly smiling. "I thought you were dead."

"Sometimes I wished I was," Jak replied and then, just as seriously, asked, "What happened to Haven City? I only know it was attacked." _And that Keira was kidnapped,_ he added silently, but did not tell them that. It would raise too many questions.

Ryu filled him in, looking angry then sad then angry again. Jak took in the information with his own shifting emotions. He offered a silent prayer that Daxter, Tess, Ashelin, Sig, and Torn had found a way to survive.

"Samos is dead…" Jak said softly, mourning silently for the old man that had been his father-in-law. The only man who might have loved Keira more than himself.

"Metal Heads killed him," the Metal Head called Roid intoned. Jak still wasn't sure how he felt about working with someone from the species that used to be his enemy, but for now he wasn't going to think about it. They were going to need all the help they could get and if Roid was willing…

"Under my command," Annityn explained and Jak's attention turned to her. The prototype Ryu had said. She had joined them to save her own life. _Probably can't trust her. Better keep an eye on the girl._

Venn, the boy who had been with Crea, approached him. Anxiously, Jak waited for what the dark-hair man would say. He had news of Keira. If he was a friend of Crea's then he surely had some sort of power. Hopefully he could…

"She's under a spell," Venn told them and Aithne managed to pull away from Cyren's soothing embrace to listen. "A strong one. I can't break."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?" Jak asked bitterly.

"The healers at the Holy City," Crea answered and everyone's attention turned to her. "I know from experience there are few better than them at breaking spells."

"The Holy City mages were once bribed to join Sage-Harmona," Annityn added quietly, her voice deep and monotonous. Everything about her was like a dictionary. Just a ramble of information, lacking any real conviction. "None did."

"Fine. Let's go to the Holy City," Aithne snapped as she rubbed fiercely at her eyes. Cleared from tears, they landed on Jak and narrowed. "And I don't want to see _you_ ever again!"

She stormed away, in the direction of Venn's wagon. As she brushed by him, he shouted, "Tents are in the wagon. Pick one and set it up!"

"I'll help you," Cyren said and trotted after her.

Without a single word both Roid and Annityn followed Cyren, both bound to protect him. Maelia and Ryu followed after a few more minutes of staring at Jak. Crea walked toward Jak and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She's angry," she said in a cold, but soothing voice. There was a tenderness in her that had not been for many, many years. "Give her some time."

Jak's lips rose in a weak grin. "You're all grown up, Crea. I remember when you barely reached my waist. Now you're almost as tall as me." He looked at her, their eyes almost completely level. Absently, and pleased that someone was willing to accept him back, he tugged at her hair.

The laugh that managed to escape her throat was weak and halfhearted. "I've done a lot of growing up. Some not by choice, though."

As Jak sent her a bewildered look Crea turned away and walked toward the wagon. Jak, head-lowered, followed her and together they both missed Venn watching them, his eyes narrowed slightly.

--&--

"There was definitely something inside the palace today," one of the spies said, biting a worn nail as she eyed the fire crackling in the corner.

"I know," Nyx answered as she withdrew her cloak from her shoulders. She had been investigating the disturbance in the palace all night. "But all I know is that enemies were in the palace. I can't figure out who. Everyone is tight-lipped about it."

"A lot of soldiers died," a man pointed out casually. Whether or not Sage-Harmona soldiers died was of no concern to him. "I saw the blood myself."

"It might not be safe for us to remain here," Nyx pointed out and stood, rubbing at her sore back. _I wish I was home. Home with Nik… what has he been doing without me? Is everything all right there?_

There was a knock on her door. Nyx's hand shot out to touch the hilt of her powerful sword. He fellow spies had already slinked into the shadows, weapons glittering ominously in the dark. They were not new to killing. They could, and would, kill anyone who was a threat in this city.

As the leader, it fell to her to decide whether or not their 'guest' died this night. Emotionlessly, she opened the door. Then she blinked and ushered her guest in with a hand. A flick of her wrist signaled to her friends that it was an ally present.

Of course, Nyx hadn't quite decided if Tage Yao was an ally or not, but for now she would let him enter. If needed be, she would kill him.

The spies came out of the shadows, eyeing Tage warily. They, too, hadn't been able to make up their minds about the young general. But, for now, they would allow him into their sanctuary.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded of him.

If Tage was uncomfortable surrounded by possible enemies it did not show on his rugged features. "News from the palace."

"The disturbance?"

"Yes." With a grim look, Tage's eyes went back into his mind's memory. "I may have stumbled upon something that could symbol the end or the beginning for Sage-Harmona." He looked at her and shook his head. "That's not why I came."

Tage Yao had always struck Nyx as a man content to move at his own pace, but she would not have pegged him as vague. "What did you find?" she asked, something gnawing at her. Whatever it was, it sounded important.

"I'd rather not say until I can be positive," he replied. "For now, my plan's still in effect. I've come here to warn you." Nyx's eyebrow went up and he touched her shoulder, almost friendly. "The disturbance… Lady Keira has been saved."

Relief swarmed Nyx. When she had heard that her friend and her former charge had been brought into the city by the damned Hirmoyarbeshi, she had nearly rushed off to save the woman. But loyalty to the Holy City had held her back and she had prayed for Keira's safety.

Now she was, thank the Goddess.

"The Mage is enraged," Tage went on. "He knew they were coming, but he underestimated them. They got away. The Mage won't come out of this empty handed. He's intent on rooting you out and when he finds you…" Tage trailed off.

She shuddered. She had lived through many wars. She knew what task would sometimes fall to the magick users. "What should we do?" Nyx wondered, trying to sound controlled even as a small trickle of panic wormed its way into her stomach.

"Leave," Tage suggested and shook his head once more. He looked older than he was, Nyx realized. Years had already begun to build up in his young eyes. His face remained smooth and young, but his eyes were like an old man's. "You won't find anything now, anyway. First, you amused the Mage. Now you'll be his targets."

"We will leave," Nyx agreed and glanced at her companions to find that they had already begun to pack. "We will be gone within the next fifteen minutes." She looked at the young general in concern. "What of you, Yao? Won't the Mage come after you."

"He needs me. The people respect me and the soldiers listen to me. If something happened to me…" A bitter smile twisted his lips. "I'm pretty much Hirmoyarbeshi's mascot. The Mage wouldn't _dare_ lay a finger on me."

Though she didn't say it, Nyx found that hard to imagine of the cold-hearted mage. It seemed like he could do _anything_ he wanted to and not feel an inkling of remorse. But she didn't have the time to worry about Tage.

"Alright. I don't like it though." Like a mother, she blessed Tage's forehead with a chaste kiss. "Be careful."

"You too," Tage returned and sounded surprised with her. Without saying another word, he turned and left the room. Nyx understood his hurry. He was the general of Hirmoyarbeshi's army. If he was to disappear, it would seem suspicious.

Even as her heart thudded in fear, something new and wonderful took over her. _I'm going home! I'll be able to see Nik and Mera again… oh my wonderful, baby girl-shine. Did you forget about your poor mummy?_ She imagined capturing her daughter's little body in her arms and squeezing her and never letting go.

And Nik? What would she do about Nik? Nyx wanted to plow into his arms and kiss the daylights out of him. But she had left him angry. Would he even want her back? Would he accept her?

Just thinking about it left a hole in Nyx's heart. So she didn't think about it. _I'll make things right with Nik. I have to. I can't live without him._ Not anymore, she couldn't. Years ago, she might have been able to but Nyx thought she would die if Nik didn't love her anymore.

Funny how a few years could change your entire life. Well, a years and a child. But that didn't matter. Merasaki's love was childlike and mother-child eternal. If there was one love Nyx would never doubt, it was that of her tiny, redheaded daughter's.

For now, she would think of only that. Only of crushing those tiny bones to her, inhaling the sweet allure of her baby's scent. Worries of Nik and her heartache would come later. It was too late and she was too tired to think of her husband.

Turning, she set out to prepare to leave.

--&--

The Mage's cool eyes ran over the trembling boy's body. He had rushed into the palace in such a flurry that it had even surprised the Mage. The boy had been screaming, half-mad, and demanded to speak to the wizened old man.

Now the young boy—he was, perhaps, sixteen—was kneeling before the Mage in his extensive bedchambers. The Mage was seated in an eloquent chair twined with thorns of gold. His staff pressed into the ground.

"Speak," he commanded the boy.

Taking a deep breath to talk, the boy started, "It was her, sire… that girl… the Girl with the golden-golem eyes. She was with _them_ and she was leading _them_ and she was killing _us_." He glanced down at the hands that trembled at his side. "She didn't kill me though."

Though his face remained impassive, the Mage felt the anger boil under the surface. He was a man who prided himself on knowing every twist and turn of his game. Instead, that girl had thrown him a wild card. He had _made_ her. If it wasn't for him, the Girl would have been nothing but useless flesh and bone. Instead, he had taken her and given her pathetic mortal life a purpose.

She had betrayed him.

The Mage's fingers tightened over his staff. The boy glanced up in fear, standing to back away.

The Girl… damn her… no one betrayed him, no one cheated in his game.

With a flick of his wrinkled wrist, the young boy's body exploded into an array of flames. The boy managed a small whimper of pain before his flaming flesh collapsed onto the floor in front of the Mage's seat. The fires sparked and burned with a magickal fuel, one that was driven onward in anger.

Then, with a deliberate intake of breath, the Mage forced himself to calm. He couldn't risk becoming too angry. Not now. Anger would cause the beast that resided inside him to rear its head. It wasn't time for that, not yet.

_We have a ways to go yet,_ the Mage thought with a crinkle of his lips. With another flick of his wrist, the fire died and the charcoal mess of flesh filled the air with a horrid smell. The Mage ignored it.

In his mind's eye, his power reached out to young General Yao's mind. He felt the brain's resistance to his intrusion—as all human brains were keen to do—but he plowed through the defenses with small struggle and sent his message to the young man.

Within moments, a flustered and annoyed looking General Tage Yao stood before him. He bowed stiffly at his hips and the Mage smiled at him.

The young man's eyes flicked to the remains on the floor. Distaste showed clearly in his eyes before he covered it with military reserve. The Mage was pleased. Tage Yao had no love for him and the boy's obvious hatred amused the Mage because, in the end, he was the one still in control.

"The Girl has betrayed us," the Mage explained slowly.

General Yao's training could not stop the surprise that sauntered across his features. He stared at the Mage in disbelief. "The Girl…?" he repeated in shock.

"Yes. Apparently, she found the side of the intruders much more to her taste." The Mage shook his head sadly, but in a way that said it was clearly no matter to him. "She was merely a prototype. She had too much freewill."

"Of course," General Yao agreed as he struggled with his own surprise.

"If the Girl is found by any of our soldiers on or off the battlefield tell them to kill her without hesitation." The Mage's smile was mocking. "If they can. Prototype or not, she is still one of the Experiments. A flawed one, but one nonetheless."

"Understood, sir," the general told him as he gave another stiff bow. He was careful not to look at the charred corpse on the floor as he left.

The Girl was a prototype, the Mage told himself. Nothing more. She was unnecessary. When he took the Experiments out to Hirmoyarbeshi he would go with them and control them instead of staying behind. The Girl's emotions had been necessary to lead them only if he wasn't there.

And besides… the Mage could sense it. The coming of the battle. Soon everything would come to a head. The world was spinning once more and it was spinning down a path of destruction. Soon the true purpose of everything would be revealed.

He could feel the powers closing in on him. _They_ were readying themselves, too. Useless creatures as they were, they would not allow the world to go without some form of protection. They would not allow him to continue on without hindrance.

But it mattered not. The Mage was too powerful for _them_ now. No matter how much they attacked, their powers were nothing compared to his. And when they sent their champion to his death, they would realize that.

With a wide smile, the Mage willed the end to come.

--&--

Jak prowled the camping grounds of the small troupe. He hadn't been able to sleep even though his body was fatigued and tired. It had been a while since he had had a decent night's worth of sleep, but Lokin's power had always sustained him.

Now Lokin was gone and Jak was glad. So glad. The god had been nothing but a nuisance, an annoyance. He had kept Jak from the very things he had wanted most, a life, a family, _peace_.

Instead, he got riddles and strange looks.

_"The end is near,"_ Lokin had muttered once, looking dark and foreboding in the rare occurrence. _"Remember that."_

He hadn't known what the god had meant, and he hadn't cared. Jak had simply wanted to repay his debt to the god and go home. But the repayment had taken seventeen years… seventeen long years of fighting and killing and questing. All for something he didn't understand.

With an annoyed growl, Jak raised his hand to his face. His right palm glowed a strange silver tint, like a spider web in the moonlight. Indeed, the glowing attributes of his hand were only visible in the light of the moon.

His fingers closed over the glowing palm. He wouldn't think upon it. What that glowing palm meant. Lokin had said it was necessary, but Jak hadn't believed him. Not once. Still, there was no denying what was happening to his hand.

_Damn you, Lokin,_ Jak thought in a spurt of anger. _I didn't want this… my daughter hates me and it's all your fault…_

Aithne… Jak let out a sigh. The hatred that had burned in his daughter, in her eyes, it was almost as if he had found himself looking at the female version of his youth in Haven City. Angry, betrayed, bitter. All of those emotions that he had become so accustomed to had shown out through her eyes.

All Jak wanted to do was mend the bridges that were between them. He had known there was bound to be anger and resentment from many when it was learned that he hadn't been dead all these years. But he had never imagined… outright hatred, and from his daughter.

Dejectedly, Jak stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers and kicked at the sand. In the distance, he could make out the silhouettes of Roid and Annityn. They seemed to have an understanding of one another, but with Annityn no one could ever be sure. In the depths of Annityn's golden eyes there was… nothing. An empty, hollow shell of a girl.

An Experiment… Jak had run into a few of them on his quest for Lokin. They were hideous creatures, a combination of machine and human. And they were so pitifully sad. Humans that had been stripped clean of their emotions, their brains filled up with orders and commands. Nerves and myelin and cells destroyed to make way for machines and gears to fit the Mage's purposes.

Just who was this Mage person? Lokin had never mentioned him to Jak. Not that Jak had seen much of Lokin anyway. The god just appeared whenever Jak was getting close to a goal and then left just a quickly.

The Mage… Jak felt his back stiffen. Something told him that the Mage… there was going to be a problem with that old man. Jak could feel the battle in the distance, looming like a dark cloud in front of them.

He stopped when he came to his destination. Keira's tent. Venn had pitched it for his wife and Keira rested soundlessly, and weakly, inside. Venn had cast a few magick spells over the woman's body to see that her blood continued flowing and her heart beating but… Jak was anxious to find the cause of Keira's coma and fix it.

If only Keira's sickness was a tangible thing. It was easy for Jak to fight things. He couldn't stand silently and watch others do the work. He needed something to fight. Needed a solid thing to pound his fists into.

As he stepped inside he heard another voice. He paused on the threshold, closing the flap behind, and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness as he took in the noise.

It was Aithne. Even hearing his daughter's voice once Jak knew how to recognize it instantly. It sounded like Keira's but with the power and confidence that flowed through his vocals.

"Mama…" Aithne's voice, however, was not powerful now. It was near begging. "Mama, I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it. I love you. I don't care if I can never join the Krimzon Guard… I just want you to get better."

It was such an intimate moment between mother and daughter that Jak knew he should leave. He was intruding. They—his wife and his daughter—had had a life without him, had moved on without him.

A dreaded thought filled Jak's mind.

What if Keira had found someone else?

That had him rooted to the spot as Aithne's words filtered out of his ears. It was possible. It had been seventeen years and Keira thought herself a widow. What if she had found someone, someone new, and moved on? What if… what if Keira had other children? What if Aithne's hostility to him wasn't because he had abandoned her and her mother, but because she had a life she didn't want him a part of?

"What are you doing here?" Aithne hissed and jumped to her feet. Her eyes narrowed, electric blue in the dark, as she regarded him with the uttermost contempt.

"I was just…" Lamely, Jak raised his arms to show he meant no harm. "I was just coming to see… how well Keira was doing."

"Shoulda done that _years_ ago," Aithne snarled and Jak winced at the low blow. "Then none of this would have happened. Wouldn't have happened, you hear me?"

Of course, Jak did. But he didn't want to think about it. He wanted to stubbornly push all those thoughts from his mind. His head was filled with questions. _Is Keira happy without me? Is she married? Do you have brothers, sisters?_ Instead, he couldn't only manage, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry… _sorry_?" Aithne shouted a stepped toward him, looking ready to go from verbal attacks to physical. "You think that makes up for it? Everything you've done? To us? You left _her_, you bastard. And you aren't my father. You aren't."

Nothing could have hurt him more. Not even her fists.

"You touch me, you touch _her_, you make her cry, I'll kill you." Her fists clenched at her side as she spat at him. "I want to kill you now, but I won't. I swear to God, I will kill you if you try anything. You aren't part of my life, you aren't part of hers. We were doing fine until you came along. _Fine_!" Aithne looked away, fire burning in her eyes. "You're lucky… lucky Cyren taught me to control my anger or you'd be bleeding by now."

He didn't like the relationship his daughter had with the young, blonde man. It seemed that _he_ was the man in her life, a place Jak should have had for years. It felt like Lokin had taken his life from him and Cyren was taking his daughter from him.

But it wasn't Cyren's fault. He seemed like a good enough boy, calm and strong and dependable. And Aithne seemed to rely on him but Jak… Jak wanted Aithne to rely on him, like daughters were supposed to with their fathers. It wasn't fair that that had been stolen from him.

"Seventeen years, you asshole," Aithne snarled as she brushed passed him. "You can't just walk into _our_ life. I won't let you. Whatever she and I have, it's never gonna be for you. You're not welcomed anymore."

She left him there and Jak looked down at Keira, her pale, calm face. He wanted to hold her, rock her, make promises. _I'm not leaving ever again, Keira. I'm going to protect our daughter. I'm going to save everyone like I used to. I'm going to make our daughter love me…_

Instead, feeling like a traitor to everything he had ever loved, Jak backed out of the tent, unable to look at his wife any longer.

--&--

It was barely dawn when the dark figure walked out of the sands and into Donna-Rune. It had been years—over a decade—since a lone traveler had found his way into the desert village and people were on edge.

Gareth pushed back the cloak over his head. His dark hair fell in a messy, unruly way over his eyes. There was an animal-like look in his eyes, wild and pained.

Finding Donna-Rune had been no easy task. Gareth had traveled for what seemed like eons with no sign of the ruins that doubled as the desert people's cities. Stumbling upon Donna-Rune now had been an accident and nothing could relieve him more.

He _had_ to find Donna-Rune. It was the only hope for Sala.

"Can I help you?" a tall, strapping young man asked as he stepped in front of Gareth. The older man swayed on his feet, weakened by the sunlight that had beat ruthlessly on his head for days. "Whoa," said the man as Gareth's world gave way to darkness.

Darkness surrounded his vision and Gareth thankfully succumbed to the fatigue.

_In his dreams he saw Sala… as he often did. And he dreamed of her no differently than he had before. _

_Sala, spread out on the small, thin medicinal bed within the infirmary, her breathing shallow and deep. Blood splattered the pristine sheets beneath her and her skin was torn and raw. _

_Sedet, his son, sat besides his mother, sobbing. But something was wrong. The tears his little boy shed onto his mothers bed were bright and red, the color of blood. He coughed, haggard, pressing his fingers against his lips. Blood seeped out between them. _

_"Papa…" he whispered crookedly, his voice strained and harsh. "Papa… where are you?" _

_Then from the shadows, like the dark menace he was, came Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. He walked around the side of his son, the little boy taking no note of the evil presence beside him. _

_Without any hesitation Hirmoyarbeshi wrapped his fingers around Sala's throat, choking the life from her. Sedet gave a scream of panic and lunged to defend his mother. With his free hand, Hirmoyarbeshi smacked the boy and he went sailing across the room, his head thudding painfully against the ground. _

_The dark blue of Sala's irises fluttered open as she tried to gasp in a breath, but Hirmoyarbeshi's hold was unrelenting. Just as quickly as she had opened her eyes, they fluttered closed again and she ceased to… breathe. _

_On the floor, dark blood running down from his head and into his eyes, Sedet cried, "Where is Papa?"_

"Sedet! Sala!" Gareth jolted awake, driven up by the horror of the dream. He clawed at the air, at the invisible enemy that plagued him.

Two hands grabbed his shoulders and roughly pushed him back down. Gareth noted that it was a soft cot beneath his back, not harsh, grainy sand. He blinked, trying to adjust his vision. The room he was in was dark wood and small.

"You were dehydrated," a calm voice said and Gareth glanced up. An old woman sat at the head of his bed, a bowl of water in her lap. She scooped some up in a small, silver cup and handed it to him. "Drink slowly."

It took all of Gareth's willpower to do as she suggested. The water was like heaven sliding down his throat. His eyes fluttered closed in pure ecstasy.

"Thank you," he managed to croak as he wiped at the water that dribbled at his lips. "Who are you?"

"One of the medicine-women here at Donna-Rune. And you, Your Highness, are far from home," the woman answered with a kind smile.

"How did you—"

Her fingers touched the small, golden medallion that held his cloak together at his neck. "Not many wear that symbol… unless they're royal. Since all the monarchs of Sage-Harmona were killed years ago, I assume you are of the Holy City?"

Sitting up again, Gareth nodded. He tugged off his cloak, relieved to have the thick, heavy thing off him. "I came here looking for an antidote… for my wife, the queen Sala. She's been poisoned… by Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. Someone told me that it was used once to poison _your_ people and that you would have a cure for it."

With a frown, the woman stood. She walked over to a bookcase lined with, not books but rows of veils. "I think I know of the sickness you speak off… but that was over a thousand years ago. The antidote has been lost to us."

His stomach dropped wildly. His dreams shattered. He had failed them, Sala and Sedet. Gareth's only hope was that these people would have the cure for his wife and they didn't. Sala was going to die.

He lowered his head into his hands, fighting back tears. Sala was going to die. And he couldn't even do a damned thing about it. When he found Hirmoyarbeshi…

Gareth's fingers coiled into tight fists against his hair. When he found Hirmoyarbeshi the man was going to know what _true_ pain was. Death was too good for him. Gareth would make it slow, painful, pitiful. He would strip Hirmoyarbeshi of all he had and then… the torture would begin.

Yes, when Gareth found Hirmoyarbeshi it would be a long, slow meeting.

"But," the woman interjected and Gareth's head snapped up to look at her. She placed her hands on her hips as she thought. "Perhaps… Alta's tribe still has it. It was his father who invented the antidote. If anyone has it, it will be his tribe."

"Where are they?" he demanded and jumped from his seat. He rushed forward and towered over her, looming. "Please tell me, I must know. Or my wife… might die. Please. You'll tell me, won't you?"

"I don't know where they are," the woman told him honestly, and sadly. "They never stay in one place for long. I'm sorry, that's all I can give you."

A sigh burned in his lungs. Gareth turned away. It was hopeless now. The goal was just in his grasp and yet, he could not reach for it. It would be pointless to search the land high and low for a cure that might not even exist.

No, he was going home. Gareth had to be at the Holy City. He had to be there for his wife.

He had to be there when she… when she…

_Dies_, his throat choked on tears. He looked at the woman and managed a weak, heartless smile. "Thank you."

"Allow me to give you some provisions and proper camping materials," the woman said sadly and turned away from him. "This way."

Every step he took, Gareth could feel his heart shatter. But he had to go home. Because he needed to be there for Sedet, and Sala.

--&--

"They're not leaving," Torn observed softly to Ashelin. The redhead was laying flat on her stomach beside him, a pair of bachelors pressed to her hot jade eyes. Torn was in a similar position. The sun hung over the walls of the Holy City, burning down on their backs.

"No, they're not."

Dark lines decorated the horizon. Hirmoyarbeshi's troop was not leaving any time soon. That much was obvious. In fact, the general didn't appear to have any intentions of leaving until the Holy City was burned to the ground.

"What are we going to do?" Torn asked, shifting so he could face his wife. Her eyes rose to meet his as the same thought passed between them. "Would everyone else agree to it, though?"

"I don't see how they can't," Ashelin pointed out sadly. "This is the last place to hide… if it falls…"

"I know," Torn finished for her and reached out to rub at the small of her back. Then he stood and said, "I'm going to find Nik."

"Alright."

He didn't want to leave her, not now. But he had no choice. Things needed to be done. Ashelin was the leader of Haven City, but he was the commander of the armed forces. It was his duty to see that his people were ready to fight.

With a small backwards glance at Ashelin as she palely continued to observe the lines and lines of Sage-Harmona troops. Then Torn sought out the temporary leader of the Holy City.

It wasn't hard. All Torn had to do was follow the girlish laughter. Merasaki Mandrake had a certain, silvery laugh that was noticeable anywhere and her bright, fire hair shone in the light of the sun.

Her father had taken her into the gardens, one of the few places that wasn't tense with worry or refugees from Haven City. Without saying anything, Torn took a seat beside Nik.

Sedet was playing as well, tossing a ball to the younger girl. Merasaki looked just enthralled at having a playmate that she didn't mind the half-hearted throws Sedet gave. The dark-haired boy was frowning even as he caught Merasaki's pudgy, childlike body in his skinny arms.

"She's a beautiful kid," Torn said gruffly, watching as Merasaki snaked out of Sedet's arm. He also noticed the way Sedet's eyes followed her wherever she scampered off to, as if he was afraid she, too, would disappear and leave him.

"She's my… the best damned thing in my life," Nik said as he kept his eyes trained on his little girl. He snorted at some distant memory, a crooked smile finding its way across his lips. "Nyx always liked to call Mera her baby girl-shine."

The man's eyes were drawn into happier memories of the past. Torn watched as it claimed him. Something inside him was moved. He knew what it was to not know if a loved one was returning alive… or dead.

_Ryu… where are you now? Are you alright… or is your body somewhere under the rubble of Haven City?_

"I never thought I would… love something so much," Nik admitted softly, smiling at Merasaki as she shrieked for her father. "Not just Merasaki, but her mother. The two of them together. They're all that matter now and I… I feel so useless. I don't know if Nyx is alive and I don't know how I'm going to protect my girl."

"We're going to have to fight Hirmoyarbeshi," Torn told him, sensing where the redhead's monologue was going.

"I know," Nik answered and looked at Torn with steely determination. "I'm not giving up this city. I'll fight them to the death."

With nothing more to say, they sat and watched the children play.

--&--

Roid followed the ragtag caravan, keeping a firm eye on the platinum haired boy ahead of him. Annityn was to his side, setting herself between Cyren and their newest member, Jak Mar. Aithne was on the opposite side of Cyren and pointedly ignored Jak's existence. Cyren would occasionally brush his hand across Aithne's shoulder in a soothing manner. But the fire in Aithne's eyes couldn't be soothed.

Jak had seemed… annoyed at the relationship between the two. Roid considered that understandable. Even Metal Heads were protective of their young. The only thing was, Aithne was not a youngling anymore.

Whatever the reason, if Jak made a move against Cyren then both Annityn and Roid would defend him. But Roid hoped that Jak wouldn't sink so low. His decision to leave his child was his own…

Or was it? It seemed that there was something more to Jak Mar's disappearance those many years ago. But since, as of now, it didn't concern Roid he didn't rightly care. As long as Cyren remained unharmed then Roid didn't care how to events around him unfolded.

His eyes fell onto Cyren again. The young boy's eyes were directly on Aithne as if he was afraid she would break at any given moment, as the slightest pressure. He was keeping close, closer than he normally would have. And, what was more, Aithne was letting him. She needed him, Roid sensed that. Needed his strength and needed his support because her world had tilted suddenly and she could only cling to him.

Their young eyes sought each other. Roid watched the spark between them, felt his chest tighten at the look. For a moment, he was Aithne, looking into Cyren's eyes. Cyren's _violet_ eyes—Roid didn't even need to look at Cyren's eyes to know their true color. Roid knew what it felt like to look into those violet eyes.

Because Cyren's eyes were _her_ eyes.

* * *

**AN:** yes, I know. _Another_ cliff hanger. Couldn't stop myself.

**Act XVII:** just what secrets are Roid the Metal Head hiding and how do they connect to Cyren's fate?

**SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT:** everyone knows that Jak IV is long, right? Like really long. So some things get lost in the production of said monster fanfic. Unfortunately, one of those is Annityn and her progressing relationships. Well we'll see Annityn grow as a character, she doesn't experience major changes until after Jak IV is slated to end. That is way, on my livejournal, I'm currently doing the _fanchar100_ challenge, featuring Annityn (who actually has a last name). Of course, the post-Jak IV stuff won't be up and available until I've finished this, but you can view Annityn's mother, her struggles, as well as Annityn before being captured and forced to switch sides. Also this enables me to add Jak 3 and Jak X into my Jak world. That means the major characters of those two games cross path with Annityn (from Seem to Razor) so please check it out and drop a line… and you know I could always use more friends! XD The link to the fanfiction is up on my profile under 'outside links' so feel free to look!

**reviews**

**CrazyFFKHOttsel:** well, we mustn't _let_ the puppies fight. Hope that fight satisfied you and I can say that Aithne and Jak are a long way from even being civilized

**GundamWingFanatic90:** I'm so psyched that you enjoy this! It makes me writing it worth while. As for Keira's outfit, yeah, basically the same but if you wanna add something different to it, make it a little new, I won't be complaining at all. You go right ahead. Looking forward to viewing your artwork!

**AngelSilentWind:** well, we all knew the big blow out was coming, didn't we?

**Carree:** you glue stick? ….that frightens me… a lot. Alas, the updates will next come fast now that school has gotten in my way! Damn you, school!

**Specter Von Baren:** I'm going to say it's summer and that's why. Well… that better be why

**Xazz:** I enjoy writing angst, humanistic angst anyway. It gives dynamic to the characters where sappy-happy-romance just wouldn't. Not that sappy-happy-romance is bad (Nora Roberts, hereby Queen of Sappy Romance novels, is my favorite author) it just lacks that touch angst give you. But what I don't under is _why_ does every fanfiction writer assume that in order to be angst that the main character must being be either A) cutting themselves like an emo or B) raped. Real life isn't like that! No one cuts their wrists with a Dashboard Confessional CD… oh… sorry about the rant… I was looking for decent InuYasha fanfiction… _again_

**ChatterBox101:** while the Mage definitely got inside Maelia's mind like he did with Crea (he might be something of a sick, twisted pervert) he didn't go as far as he did with Crea. And as for Venn and Crea… well, you'll see!

**Darkening Light:** oh, I know. I was just avoiding the question! XD there might be a happy ending, there might not. The story kinda tells me what it wants me to do so we'll _all_ have to see, won't we? As for Aithne… well, she's Jak's daughter so she's instantly stubborn on a subject and she hasn't had any reason to go after that belief… except _now_…

**Teh Kitsune:** let me just start out by saying I love how you dissect this thing. It makes me so pleased! Unfortunately, I'm weary to say nay or yay to any on of your theories (just like those_ Lost_ guys). And, if case you didn't know, the weird guard guy who helped Jak is Tage Yao and he's big in Part Four. Keep on at it!


	17. Flowers for Rosalyn

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Jak series. So yeah. And guess what? Rosalyn? Don't own her either. Thanks a tons to Specter Von Baron for being awesome.

**Author's Notes:** so long. This chapter is the longest chapter in the entire story. Or it will be. And yet, it's early… hmm… the Universe works in mysterious ways, no?

**warnings:** none

* * *

**Act XVII: Flowers for Rosalyn **

_Her name had been Rosalyn Yoshimoro… and she had been beautiful. _

Not just the beauty that captured a woman's face in her youth. Rosalyn's body sang with a inner beauty, a soul as pure as snow and as fresh a new born.

_Children loved her. She lived in a small village just outside of Sage-Harmona and cared for them like a mother would its own. She was a teacher. A teacher not just of academia, she taught the children how to survive and how to live. She coddled them when their parents went to farm and kissed bruises and scrapped knees. _

_The children loved her… loved Rosalyn Yoshimoro. _

_But they had not been the only ones. _

_Every so often, Rosalyn would disappear from the village. No one knew where she went and Rosalyn was not forthcoming on the information. It was her secret and it made her happy, obviously. Her violet eyes had shown unusually bright whenever she returned to the village after one of her monthly disappearances. _

_Some people had guesses. After all, Yoshimoro was the name of the royal family of Sage-Harmona and Rosalyn did resemble the king, in a purely feminine way. Though, her hair was a bright, watery platinum, violet eyes were common only in the Yoshimoro family. It was a rare and unusual trait among anyone else. _

_When someone questioned her on her heritage Rosalyn had given a silvery laugh and pushed her long, bright silver hair from her eyes. "What does it matter where I come from?" she had asked a little child as he tugged on her skirts. "I'm here, with you, and I love you. That's all that should matter." _

_Those were the first words Roid heard spoken from her lips. _

_With Kor gone and Eris dead, he wandered. A lost soul unwelcome among his tribe-mates because he did not believe in seeking revenge against __Haven_ _City__. In his time, he had been a respected warrior and an advisor to Kiff Fire. But with the death of Kor, their ideas on how the race should be led divided them. Kiff Fire was the rightful leader of the Metal Heads and Roid, respecting her wishes but unable to abide them, had left to wander the world, searching for meaning. _

_And his meaning had been found in a young woman with a too skinny body, a pretty face, and a voice that sang of lotus blossoms in the Spring. _

_He hadn't understood why he had been drawn to this single woman, this one girl scampering along the dirt roads of a human village with tiny children. _

_Perhaps it had been her eyes. Those violet eyes… they way they had scanned the area, bright and innocent and laughing. Full of promise and wonder and amazement. Perhaps it had been the way she clasped a tiny child to her bosom, rocking away their nightmares as if they were only the most important thing in the world. _

_All Roid knew was that his life had gone from meaning nothing to… meaning something when he had heard her voice. A flame had erupted in his chest, burning clear into his soul. Everything had been promised in Rosalyn's breathy voice. Everything that Roid had ever wanted could have been told in the way light bounced in the gentle, smiling irises of Rosalyn's eyes. _

_Rosalyn was a wild woman, even if she was even and calm. There was a sense of freedom in her, in the way her feet picked up from the ground. In the way she spun herself around, twirling her skirt around her legs. Her laughter was wild and fanciful. Her arms spread open to catch whatever the world might send and her lips were parted to taste the delicates of life as her fairy-feet danced upon the air. _

_Once, some time later, Roid found a poem that descried just what Rosalyn was. Time had aged his memory of the lines, but one prose stood out before the rest. And when he read it to her, trailing a finger down her spine, her knew it pleased her to hear it. _

"And all that's best of dark and bright, meets in her aspect and her eyes…"

_Rosalyn's smile as she listened to his thick voice struggle with the beat of the poem had been the most beautiful thing Roid had ever seen and when she had pressed her body to his to whisper her thanks, Roid's life had reached the pinnacle of its existence. Because nothing had mattered expect the way Rosalyn's arms were secure around his, holding him not a like a children or a pet. But like… someone she cared for. Someone who had managed to capture this goddess-woman's soul and mind and heart. _

_He had thought that somehow he had tricked Fate and for a while Roid felt guilty. Was it fair that—he, an exiled Metal Head—was the one that gained the most beautiful of Rosalyn's smile? What grace had befallen him? _

_But those thoughts faded from his mind like a bad dream as his time with Rosalyn stretched. As each moment turned into a blissful eternity. Roid allowed himself to forget there was an outside world. He had allowed himself to think that everything had faded away leaving only he, Rosalyn and the tiny village in which they resided. _

_How wrong he had been to think it…_

--&--

Roid marched behind Jak Mar, keeping his eyes trained on the man's hand in case he reached for his gun. There had been no more hostilities between the Mar and Cyren, but Roid still had not let his guard down.

He knew very well what happened when his guard dropped.

The thought put him in a sour mood and he knew it showed. Annityn was the first to notice because she noticed everything.

"Something troubles you?" the young girl questioned as her piercing golden gaze held his. Roid, shamed, managed to resist the snarl that rose up in his throat.

"No. _Non._ Nothing troubles me," he grunted back. Annityn knew he was lying. The girl was too smart not to realize it, but her eyes betrayed nothing as she nodded and turned to catch up with Cyren.

Venn's small caravan—now including only Aithne's group and the newcomer Jak Mar—was making its way around the desert to the Holy City. Venn had explained that the long way was the best way simply because it would be easier to avoid whatever dangers lurked in it, such as Sage-Harmona soldiers, disgruntled Metal Heads, and those abominations, the Experiments.

But Roid knew that the detour would end badly. Not for them all, but for _him_. There was a warning bell shrilling against his ear and he was hard-pressed to ignore it. His head was screaming over and over again, _something's here… something's here_…

For hours they traveled, laboring under the scorching heat. It didn't bother Roid, he was used to such conditions. Nor Jak for that matter. Nor Venn nor Crea.

Aithne and her friends fared worse. Maelia was being carried on Ryu's back, passed out from the heat, and Ryu's face was pale and sweaty. Aithne was laboring with her breath, trying to keep on going and sending glares Jak's way whenever he attempted to help her. Cyren was keeping a reassuring hand under Aithne's elbow, his face just as pale as Ryu's but his footfalls stronger.

Annityn seemed, as always, untouched by anything at all. The heat didn't bother her and she even took turns with Ryu carrying Maelia, unburdened by the added weight of the girl with her armor. She took the lead early enough, talking quietly to Crea when the blonde woman engaged her in conversation.

Roid was tired. His fingers closed into fists in frustration. How could he possibly be tired? He had been asleep mere hours ago, but his body was near collapse now. What was making him so?

"We'll need to rest soon," Annityn pointed out to Cyren as she took Maelia's weight from Ryu's back. The young man sent her a thankful look, sweat straining his loose, white shirt.

"Mae—Maelia's not doing so… _hot_…" Ryu managed as he panted for breath. Crea passed him and pressed her canteen bottle into his hands. "What about—?"

"I will be fine," Crea pointed out, her face softening slightly but not enough to change the hard planes of her face.

"Thank you," Ryu said moments before greedily gulping down the water. He capped it off, making sure not to drink too much, and gave it to Crea, who skillfully stowed it into her rucksack strapped onto her back.

"I thought we were going _around_ the desert," Aithne grumbled as she leaned heavily on Cyren. "Why are we still in sand?"

"We should be getting out of the edge of the desert soon," Venn pointed out, looking Cyren steadily in the face. When he went to give the young man his canteen bottle, Cyren shook his head.

"No," he told the dark-haired older man. "Save it for when we need it."

Roid was proud. Cyren was thinking of others before himself. It made him… even more like _her_. When Roid had first met the boy face-to-face, he had been surprised at how alike they had looked. And now, he was to be constantly reminded just how alike they were in personality.

Both kind-hearted, both soft, both loving, both with a stubborn streak…

Cyren sang of her… sang in his hair and his eyes and his skin and his voice. There were so many pieces of _her_ sown into _him_ that if Roid closed his eyes and opened them he could almost see _her_ smiling at him through the boy.

_Such thoughts will get me nowhere,_ Roid thought grimly as his mind continued to conjure up images of the past. The bright looks in her eyes, the way her red lips parted to say his name, the way she always smelled like sunshine and flowers.

As his eyes slid closed and he was rushed up in the throes of memory, he saw her dancing, her pure white skirt flowing out in waves before her. Her white bodice, laced with ribbons, heightened the small curves of young, thin, statuesque body. Her slim arms were thrown upward as her feet moved into a gentle dance. Eyes closed, and head tilted, he remembered her dancing.

When the smell reached his nostrils, Roid thought it was his mind forming the illusion of the memory of the flowery scent. For years it had haunted him in his dreams. He would wake up with her name on his lips and the lingering scent of her alluring smell intoxicating his nose.

It made him half-mad with grief.

He forced himself to keep the rage banked. It was, after all, his traitorous mind that brought up the recollection. And it was not a memory he wished to share with anyone. The past was his and his alone. His to pick apart and remember. His to mourn and his to rage over.

But when he opened his eyes and joined the present the smell still lingered. He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. So the smell was real. That meant they were nearing a field of flowers and not just any flowers…

"It's beautiful." Roid's eyes were pulled toward Cyren's wide and shocked face. For a moment, he ceased to be Cyren for Roid and instead was the woman with his eyes. Then Roid shook his head and dispersed the lingering tinge of memory around his eyes.

Aithne took a step forward, her hands reaching out to skim the high, pure flowers that shifted gently in the wind. For the first time since Roid had met her, a calm smile flirted across the girl's face. She turned to face Cyren, holding her hands out for him.

As Jak's face darkened, Cyren accepted the girl's hands and together they stepped into the wildflowers as they sang in the meadows.

Looking at them, Aithne clasped in Cyren's arms as they stared into each other's eyes, smiling, was too much for Roid. He remember the first time he had seen the flowers that now danced around Aithne and Cyren's legs and the wave of memories were unpleasant in his breast.

Jak Mar watched his daughter smile up into the young man's face and wasn't sure what to do. What he could do. He wanted to drag them apart, to crash Aithne's body against his, and try to gain back the time had missed with her. But he couldn't go back. Aithne was a woman… and he had missed watching her grow into that woman.

_I have to let her go…_ he realized with a jolt. His body rebelled against the idea. _But it isn't fair! I've never had time with her! I deserve to know my own daughter._

Beside him, Maelia was rousing. Moaning softly, she stepped away from Annityn as the cool-eyed girl put her down on her feet. Ryu came up to her side and gripped her arm. Maelia shook him off and, smiling, stepped into the flowers with Aithne and Cyren.

In Maelia Jak saw Daxter, his old friend. Though her body was Tess's, the smiles of her face and the light and laughter of her eyes were all Daxter. The Daxter that had been Jak's friend and companion. The Daxter who had loved his family, before the death of his son had turned him asunder.

Ryu kept his eyes on Maelia as he too walked into the field of flowers. Jak saw Torn in the way Ryu's sharp, jade eyes locked on Maelia's back, tearing away the masks the girl had put over herself to find her inner soul. His body was more relaxed than Torn's had ever been but there was something in the way his held himself that spoke of Torn. Strength… arrogance… power… and leadership. They were all in Ryu, but they were quiet and calm and controlled, unlike their predecessor.

"They're so pretty. What are they?" Maelia asked and she bent down to examine one of the flowers.

"Luminake," Annityn explained coolly as her golden eyes examined the fields of them. "A popular flower among Sage-Harmona nobles, considered to symbolize purity, innocence, and young love. They grow only around water and only during the hottest part of the year."

Roid didn't hear her as he watched Maelia bend down to pluck on of the flowers from the ground. _One more luminake dead…_ he thought bitterly, fighting the surge of anger. It wasn't Maelia's fault. Luminakes were beautiful. Why shouldn't she pick it? _One more innocent trampled and dead and bleeding and begging me to save them even though it's too late so I go and protect their blood…_

"Hey," Jak's voice called through Roid's thick and foggy. "Hey. What's wrong?" When Roid's attention turned to the blonde hero, he noticed Jak was gripping the handle of his Blaster Gun. Yes, Jak had every reason to be worried. There was a wild, caged-animal look in Roid's eyes. A look that could kill.

But then, Jak turned to look longingly at his daughter who, when she met his eyes, glared pointedly at him before turning to Cyren.

Unable to stand being near anyone, Roid faded into the background.

--&--

_What made him stay and look after Rosalyn Yoshimoro was beyond Roid. But he could not seem to stay away. Being gone for more than two days left a burning hole where his heart should be, as if the woman had it and he had to return to it before he died. _

_So he watched her from afar, careful never to be seen. He watched with longing as Rosalyn smiled and laughed and danced in her carefree, innocent way. His legs ached to join her, to pick her up gently in his claws and twirl them both around, until they were both heady with the spin. _

_But, of course, he did not. He was a Metal Head… a scorned creature. Rosalyn would run away in terror at the mere sight of his scaly face… she would scream and curse him and demand he leave. _

_Never in his life, had Roid hated humans more… _

_Once, he followed Rosalyn into a vast field of luminake flowers. It was one of the young girl's secret spots, where she went to sit and read and laugh and dance. Today, Rosalyn was dancing. _

_From his spot on the only tree in the valley, Roid watched with a hitched breath as Rosalyn picked up the heavy weight of her skirts so she could spin. She tilted her head to her shoulder and laughed in her pure, simple way. The wind picked up and the flower petals dancing wildly around, twisting and turning as she dipped and bended. _

_Roid's eyes closed at the beautiful image. He implanted it deep into his brain so he would always remember. So on long, lonely nights he would remember what it felt like to be there, watching her dance. _

_When he opened his eyes she was gone. Jolting, Roid stood up. Where had she gone? Had she left the valley, returning home? But how could she move that fast without him noticing? _

_He jumped down from his perch on the tree, landing softly on the flower-strewn ground. His sense of smell was tampered by the intoxicating aroma of the circling plants. He couldn't catch the subtle, exotic scent of Rosalyn. _

_So she was inches away when her smell finally wafted into his nose. Gasping, he spun around. _No! No! _he thought wildly._ How can she be…?

_And there she was. Rosalyn Yoshimoro, standing behind him in a field of pure white flowers and smiling. Her hands were pressed demurely behind her back, but never once had Roid believed her to be demure. The smile on her lips was almost teasing, like a mother would give a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. _

_"Hullo there," she greeted with a smile, tilting her head to one side. _

_Why wasn't she screaming, running away in terror? The very gall that she possessed with one simple smile had Roid stumbling over his words. All he could do was stare dumbly at her as she approached him. He was the big, bad Metal Head here and yet… he was the one that was terrified. _

_"You've been following me for days," she pointed out calmly as she took a step toward him. Roid gaped at her and backed away, hitting the rough bark of the tree. He looked at her with the eyes of a frightened child. _

_Never in his wildest dreams had Roid ever thought he would be standing face-to-face with Rosalyn Yoshimoro. And now that he was he found himself like a youngling, awkward in his body and unsure of himself. _

_With that damnable smile still on her face, Rosalyn took another step toward him. Her laughter broke through the air as Roid tripped over his own feet and toppled into the tree behind him. She knelt beside him and smiled kindly into his eyes. _

_"What's your name?" _

_"Ro—Roid," he managed to croak, surprised at the huskiness of his own voice. Unable to resist he reached out and touched her wrist. It was soft, humanly fleshy. It amazed him. She amazed him. He stared at her in open confusion. "Why aren't you afraid?" _

_"Should I be?" _

_"No! No!" he said hastily, releasing her wrists and throwing his hands out in mock-surrender. "I'm not… bad… I'm not…" _

_"I didn't think you were," she answered. With a calm, certain demeanor she held out a hand for him. "Do you want to come and eat with me, Roid? I don't cook very well, but I think you might like it." _

_Too numb to think about how bad an idea it all was, Roid nodded. Rosalyn smiled again and gripped his wrist, tugging toward the town. Her house was at the end of it, thankfully, and no one noticed the pretty, young slip of a girl sneaking a Metal Head into her home. _

--&--

In of the field of wild flowers, Crea was calmer than she had been for almost a decade. Everyone was put at peace in the flowers that danced and sang silently at their fingertips. Crea inhaled the smell, surprised at the feeling that wormed its way into her chest.

Peace… at last peace and everything bad was a far off memory. In this very consuming valley of flowers, Crea could pretend, for a moment, that nothing was wrong with her. That she was a normal, happy woman.

And she had to admit, a lot of that had to do with the fact that Jak stood beside her. Ever since she had been a little girl, Jak Mar had come to symbolize her hope, her hero. Now that he was near, a sense of happiness filled Crea's breast to the point of overflowing. With Jak Mar at her side, Crea felt she could conquer anything and everything that came her way.

Which is why, when night had fallen on the valley of flowers and everyone slept for the next long trek of their journey, Crea sought Jak out.

She found him right where she imagined him to be. Beside his wife. Jak had always cared deeply for Keira, in Crea's mind. Everything Jak did was out of love for his family, Crea knew that and not just because she had been privy to Jak's deepest secret.

The blonde hero from Crea's past glanced up at her from his spot outside Keira's tent door. Without a word, Crea sat down beside him and shared in his pain. It hurt her too to see Keira pale and weakened and near death. Like Jak, Keira had meant something to Crea. She had become a symbol of hope as well, a symbol that there was a way to escape a cycle and have a happy, healthy life.

"She'll be alright, Jak," Crea said, thinking Keira _had_ to be alright. Keira was a fighter, a survivor. Crea refused to believe that Keira Hagai-Mar would succumb to a trick of the Mage.

"I don't know…" Jak replied, dejectedly, in a voice Crea had never heard him speak in before. It frightened her. "She looks so pale and weak and I… I wasn't _there_. I wasn't there to defend her like I promised I would and I… I…"

Without thinking about it, without worrying over the human contact of it, Crea gripped Jak's shoulder. "You didn't have a choice, remember? It was the will of the gods."

"I should have fought back. _Done something_," Jak retorted bitterly, his fingers clenching into fists. "I should have _sensed_ something was wrong. I'm Keira's husband, Aithne's father, and yet, when they needed me most, I didn't know."

"You're here now, Jak. Make up for your absence. Tell them what happened with you between—"

"I can't. Lokin made me promise, or he would harm them." A hollow, bitter laugh made its way from Jak's throat. "Not that it matters anyway. The truth won't make Aithne stop hating me… and Keira probably hates me, too."

"I refuse to believe Keira could ever hate you," Crea pointed out stubbornly. "And Aithne doesn't hate you either." She managed a weak smile for the confused and cynical look on Jak's face. "She's angry, yes, but more than that she's grieving. She's been grieving for you. People handle grief in different ways, you know that. Some lock it away and pretend nothing's wrong, some accept it, weep and learn to move on, some turn grief into rage so it's easier to handle, and some just grow cold and distant to keep the pain away." She didn't mention to him that she was in the last category.

"You're right, Crea," Jak said suddenly, in a voice filled with determination. "You're right. I _will_ win them back. I _will_. Aithne will see that I'm her father and Keira will see that I had to leave. They both will and we'll be a family again."

Crea smiled because that was the Jak she knew and loved. She curled her knees under her chin and together they watched the stars as they twinkled above them. Eventually, she felt Jak's eyes on her and she turned to face him.

"What?"

"You," Jak answered simply as his eyes narrowed in study. "You've changed, Crea. A lot. You're not… not what I remember."

She worried her lip. _Did you have to bring that up, Jak? I don't want to remember it just yet._ "Something… terrible happened to me, Jak. I—I really, _really_ don't want to talk about it… but it makes it better when you're around. Honestly, Jak."

Because it seemed she needed it more than even she knew, Jak reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. When Crea didn't jerk away, he brought her closer to him and placed her head on his shoulder. She shivered like a little girl and the father that was in Jak reacted to it. In his mind, she was still just a little girl, now lost and alone in a dark terrible place inside her head.

"It'll be alright, Crea. I'll make it alright." He glanced down at his left hand as it rested in his lap. "I can make it alright."

"I know you can, Jak," Crea said with the uttermost faith in him. "You always do." Then, because she realized she needed it, she leaned and absorbed his strength and warmth. Tears threatened to spill over but she held them back and was content to cling to the last remnant of her past.

Neither of them noticed as Venn walked away from them, into the shadows, his eyes dark and his fists clenched.

--&--

_Roid's life with Rosalyn was the only time he would ever claim to be truly happy. Until Rosalyn, he had not known what happiness was. His life had been a hollow, mockery of existence before Rosalyn had taken his wrist and led him into her life. _

_He would leave her for short periods of time, a day or so, but he was drawn back to her. To the smells of her house, the intoxicating smell of her skin, the brightness shining of her eyes, the way she treated him as a person… not a monster. _

_And she always left the back door open for him. Every time Roid would open it, he would stand in the threshold, gaping in amazement. She left the door open. It was like someone had given him clothes to wear. Rosalyn had given him a home. _

_Every time he returned to her home, she would howl with joy and throw herself into his arms, not worried about his claws or his Metal Head appearance. And she would sing, oh she would sing, as she held him. _

_They would spend long nights in her room, talking about things. Roid told her of the places he had scene and she would tell him of her day. _

_Once he brought her a bundle of flowers when he had been gone for over a day. He didn't know why, but he felt his absences deserved some sort of apology. When he thrust them to her, Rosalyn took them from him and stared at him as if she had never seen him before. _

_Just when he was starting to grow uncomfortable, Rosalyn buried her head in the flowers and sobbed long and hard. Roid stared at her, his talons outstretched, not sure what to do. _

_Then, Rosalyn wrapped her thin arms around him and sobbed against his chest. "Roid… Roid… Roid… I miss you so much. Don't go away like that again." She looked up at him with a watery smile. "The flowers are beautiful." _

_Things… changed after that. Not in a bad way though. Roid never left Rosalyn for more than a day. He would always return as the night fell on the village. They spent all their time together, sometimes at the library connected to Rosalyn's school house or sometimes at her house, in her room, where they would read and talk. _

_Roid learned the beauty of words, learned of Rosalyn's love for them, and learned how to bring her pleasure by saying a few honey-coated lines into her ear. _

_Rosalyn told him of her family, outside of the village. Her kingly brother and her sister-in-law, and the son they had that she loved more than life. _

_"He's amazing, Roid," Rosalyn whispered as she rested absently in his lap, her head on his shoulder. "He smiles and laughs all the time. He's only eight, but he's so smart and he always knows who I am, he can remember me and… and—oh! He would love you, Roid." _

_Wisely, Roid remained silent. They both knew that Roid could never go near the Sage-Harmona city, let alone the palace. _

_"He's so sweet, my nephew," Rosalyn whispered. "He's so tiny, he fits right into my arms, but he'll be big and strong one day, and so handsome. I love him so much, Roid. I've never loved anything more than that little boy…" _

_There was a bitter taste in Roid's throat as he drew his claws whisper-light across her back. Rosalyn wanted children. And why shouldn't she? She would make the perfect mother. Kind and warm and wonderful. She was a woman meant to be a mother. _

_But for that to happen, Rosalyn would need to mate with a _man_. She would need to be with a man. Roid was a Metal Head. He couldn't give her children… but he already knew that he would want no one else in the course of his life. No one could match up with Rosalyn for Roid. _

_The beautiful, silver-haired woman beside him must have known what he was thinking because suddenly she was shaking her head. "No, Roid. No. I'm happy with you. Just you. You're all I need." _

_They held each other for a long while, Roid rocking her to sleep as Rosalyn whispered her affection to him over and over again. _

_Then, two weeks later, Rosalyn went to visit her beloved nephew and her family one last time. _

--&--

Roid looked at the luminake flowers as the wind caressed their wild petals and felt the bitter well of pain rise up in his chest. They were moving out soon and Roid was glad to be rid of the damned flowers.

They brought back too many memories. Memories he didn't want to remember.

As everyone packed and readied to leave, Roid stared at the flowers, lost in memories. Memories of _her_. Rosalyn Yoshimoro as she danced and laughed and held him in her arms, whispering her affectionate words into his scaly ears.

"We are leaving," a cold, emotionless voice told him. Roid didn't face Annityn as she came up to his side, her golden eyes scanning the vastly white field one last time. She turned to face him.

"I know," Roid answered, refusing to look at her, knowing what he would see in her eyes. Annityn was brilliant and she probably had him figured out the moment they had stepped into the field of flowers.

"Once I heard that the luminake flowers symbolized the royal family of Sage-Harmona. It is said the females of the Yoshimoro line were particularly fond of these flowers." Annityn was calm and hinted of nothing, but Roid knew what she was saying.

"What does that mean to me?" Roid demanded, his voice holding barely concealed rage.

"When will you tell Cyren?" Annityn questioned without answering Roid's. "He needs to know."

"Does he?"

"By the end, if Hirmoyarbeshi and the Mage lie dead, the people of Sage-Harmona will need a Yoshimoro to led them. They will accept nothing else. Cyren is—"

"I know… I know…" Roid's fingers clenched into fists. He promised Rosalyn he would protect Cyren, but by keeping Cyren in the dark was he really protecting him? The boy needed to know, to prepare, to brace himself for what the future would inevitably bring, to be the man he had been _born_ to be.

Without saying anything, Annityn turned from him and left Roid to his thoughts. Roid turned to watch her walk away, heading towards Cyren. She wouldn't say a word, not a word, to Cyren. She would wait for Roid to make his move and then add the proper, and full, information.

_What would you do Rosalyn?_ Roid thought, looking down at the flowers as they spun at his feet. Rosalyn had just asked him to protect and look after Cyren. She hadn't said if she wanted him to reclaim what was his.

Roid didn't know what to do. It was Cyren's birthright. Didn't the boy have a right to know? But on the other hand… how would Cyren react to the sudden knowledge? What happened if he injured himself in his shock? Then where would he be?

And yet… Roid knew that Cyren had to know. And not just because he was Rosalyn's nephew, but because he was a young boy and he needed to know who he was to be a man.

Who Cyren was.

A Yoshimoro.

Sighing gently, Roid turned and walked over to the group preparing to take their leave. The information that he was about to lay on all of them would probably dampen those plans. Jak Mar might be annoyed, but without anyone on their trail, Roid knew this was the best time to drop his secret.

_Rosalyn, help me take care of the boy you love…_

--&--

_For some reason, Roid hadn't liked the idea of Rosalyn going to Sage-Harmona that month. Though it had been a normal occurrence for her throughout the years he had known her, Roid had kept his ears to the ground. He knew there was unrest in Sage-Harmona. He knew that many military leaders hadn't like the backseat approach to the new cities the Yoshimoro family had taken. _

_"I have to go," Rosalyn protested as she packed her bag. She smiled over at him and brought their faces together. "It'll be Cyren's birthday in a few days. I _need_ to be there. Nothing will go wrong." _

_"I don't want you to," Roid told her and held her close. There was a shiver on his skin. This was not a good idea, letting Rosalyn go. A little, deadly voice was whispering that he had to cling to her or she would be gone… forever. _

_The only light in his life, smothered. _

_But Rosalyn hadn't been worried. She kissed him on his forehead and continued to pack her bags. When it came to Cyren, Rosalyn took everything seriously. She had spent weeks agonizing over which toy to buy for her young nephew on his eighth birthday and they both knew she would rather die then miss out on Cyren's birthday. _

_"Come with me," Rosalyn said as they embraced one last time in the darkness, her fingers locked around his scaly neck, her chest heaving against his. "See Sage-Harmona. I can help you sneak in. I know the ways." _

_Roid shook his head, as they both knew he would. No. He wouldn't come with Rosalyn to Sage-Harmona. He couldn't. It was too risky. If he was caught, it would ruin their happiness and Cyren's birthday. For the best, he decided to wait at her house until Rosalyn returned at her normal time. _

_When she turned to leave, to take the journey to Sage-Harmona's protective walls, Roid had almost not been able to let her go. He held her against his strong, unyielding chest wrapping his wings protectively around her back and imagined holding her there until she forgot to leave. _

_But with a smile Rosalyn pulled away, tightened the cloak around her shoulders, and walked away, her thin and silvery body disappearing into the dark, seeping outlands. Roid kept a stern, stubborn vigil on her roof until the sun rose and he had to leave before he was noticed. _

_For three days, Roid kept his silent vigil on the top of Rosalyn's house, waiting to see the flash of her platinum mane against the dark night and fled every morning to prowl the grounds outside the village. _

_But by the third night, Roid could barely breathe. There was something wrong, terribly wrong. He sensed it in the very depths of his bones. It was some kind of Metal Head sixth sense that had him worried and shaking. _

_It was Cyren's birthday on the fourth night and Roid barely had the patience to wait until midnight before he bounded down the darkened road towards Sage-Harmona. He couldn't name what was pressing him onward. There was some tiny voice whispering against his ear that he had to get to Sage-Harmona as fast as he could. _

_And he ran. And ran and ran and ran. Ran as fast as his legs could propel him down the road. Until he reached Sage-Harmona. _

--&--

Everyone was packing up, preparing for another long and tiring day of trekking across the grassy fields that circled the desert.

Aithne gathered what materials she could and packed them into her rucksack. She resided under the shade of a small tree and looked over her bent arms every so often to catch a glimpse of Jak Mar.

Her eyes narrowed as she watched the man that had been her mother's husband say a few words to Crea. Then he looked at her and she quickly turned away, trembling from her barely controlled rage.

Every time she thought of Jak Mar, Aithne thought she would explode. All she could see was her blind rage and a deep, grating ache in her heart. She wanted to hurt Jak as he had hurt her mother.

Keira had cried herself to sleep every night, mourning a husband that had never been dead.

_Never been dead…_ Aithne's fingers fisted on the straps of her rucksack. He had never been _dead_. This whole time while Haven City had mourned their dead hero, he had been doing who knows what.

"Aithne?"

She jerked her head up, opening her mouth to scream. To find some way to deal with all the pain and rage that was bottled up inside her heart. There was no release from the pain. It flowed through her veins and stamped through her head and there was no escape from it. All she could do was stand firm and powerful as wave after wave of mind-numbing pain hit her and try to find some break, release, from it by lashing out at the nearest person.

But it was Cyren who stared at her. Cyren with the kind eyes and caring soul. _Cyren_.

Cyren who had kissed her.

"I can't stand it," she whispered to him, glaring over at Jak. He caught her gaze and it only made his look more regretful. "He's right there. He's been right there this whole time. Not dead. All this time… he hasn't been dead."

"I'm sorry, Aithne. I can't imagine what it must feel like for you." He reached out and touched her arm, well aware of Jak's glare on his back.

At his touch, her mind brought forth the memory of the kiss they had shared. Aithne resisted the shudder that attempted to course through her body.

It had felt odd and refreshing and wonderful to remember what it felt like to slid against his body. But at the same time, it frightened Aithne.

Because there was always that little voice in her head whispering, _love is no good. Look what it did to Mom… do you really want that._

Yet, she couldn't deny what she felt whenever Cyren's eye fell onto her body now. Before, when she might have noticed it, she automatically ignored it because friends didn't think that way and because she didn't want to go there.

Now, she found herself looking at him more than she had ever before. She had always been aware of Cyren's attractiveness, but she had never been _aware_ of it. Now she studied him, noticed those muscles rippling beneath that shirt, the way his onyx eyes heated and the way her body responded to it.

"Cyren, I—"

"I have an announcement." Roid stood at the edge of their small group. Annityn stood at his side, cool and emotionless as ever, but there seemed to be a certain knowledge in her eyes. It was like she already knew what was going to happen and it gave Aithne a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Can't it wait?" Venn asked as he brushed passed Crea. He glanced at her once, then pointedly did not look at her again. "We should get moving before the sun gets too high. Then we'll never be able to walk."

"No. It can't," Roid replied and stepped closer to him. Jak's hand instantly went to the gun strapped on his waist belt, but Roid ignored the motion and Jak relaxed after a prolonged moment.

"Alright. What is it?" Venn asked and gave a shrug.

"Come here," Roid commanded, looking at Cyren. Cyren looked over at Aithne, who was just as bewildered as him, and then stepped toward the Metal Head. His talon-like fingers reached for the chain around Cyren's neck. Jak flinched at the movement, but didn't say anything.

"The medallion?" Cyren questioned as Roid dragged the silver amulet from around his neck. "That's Zen-Fai's."

"Is it?" Roid held the amulet in his palm and traced the crest emblazoned there. How many times had Rosalyn drawn him this very symbol, the image of a halcyon, peaceful and serene, entwining with a firebird. "What did your… Zen-Fai tell you about it?"

"Nothing." Cyren's face darkened visibly as hurt washed over his features. "He gave it to me when he died."

_You never told him, did you? You never had the chance, Zen-Fai._ "This medallion is ancient and sacred." He looked into Cyren's eyes. Cyren's _violet_ eyes. Not onyx, but violet. "It belongs to the royal bloodline of the Sage-Harmona family."

"Why… why would Zen-Fai have something like this, then? We didn't even _live_ in Sage-Harmona before we came to Haven City." The boy still didn't get it. Roid understood though. On some primal level, his mind was refusing to admit the obvious.

"It was Zen-Fai's duty to protect the last heir in the bloodline." Roid closed his palm over the amulet, imagining Rosalyn dangling it in front of baby Cyren. "Until he was old enough to reclaim the throne."

Cyren's eyes widened and Roid knew that realization had hit him. Aithne gave a gasp behind them because she, too, was getting it.

And as he explained Rosalyn's plan to protect the person she loved most in the world, Roid was drawn back to the worst memory of his life.

--&--

_There was something wrong with Sage-Harmona. Roid stood feet away from his towering walls and he could tell that there was something terrible and foreboding about it. _

_The gates were ajar. Someone had left them purposely opened. Who did that? As his heart began to pound rapidly in his chest, Roid slipped into the city. _

_What struck him as most odd about the city was the silence. It was too quiet for a successful city. The streets were empty and dark, though night had fallen only a few hours ago. _

_He didn't linger long on the haunted streets of Sage-Harmona. Instead, he made his way right to the palace, which was also suspiciously quiet. The part of him that was bonded to Rosalyn, the part of him that made her his mate, screamed at him to get to her as fast as he could. _

_Roid weaved his way down the long hallways of the palace. Rosalyn's smell was erratic, as if she had been running, weaving through the hallways like he did. On her scent, he sensed her raw fear. He could almost imagine her sobbing, screaming for help. That was what her scent told him. _

_Even as dread welled up inside his chest, it was rage that boiled his blood. He followed Rosalyn's scent until he came to one of the balconies on the wall of Sage-Harmona. Roid kept crouched in the shadows as he inched along the stone walkway. _

_A man stood at the edge of the wall, looking down at Sage-Harmona. A squealing child was locked in his arms, dangling by his ankle. Roid stood to lunge forward, but then stopped himself. For it was too late, the child was sent tumbling toward the harsh, unforgiving ground. _

_  
The injustice of it, of a life cut short, had Roid rooted to the ground for many moments. He stared at the spot where the young child had fallen long after the soldier had left. Then he snapped from his trance and remembered Rosalyn. He had to get her out of here. Her and whoever of her family survived. _

_He dived back into the palace and continued on Rosalyn's trail, following what scent he could get from her. He dodged the soldiers that now clogged the hallways, celebrating wildly over their supposed 'victory', He imagined ripping out their throats and bathing the hallways in their tainted blood, but he had to see Rosalyn to safety before he sought any kind of vengeance. _

_Rosalyn was in what Roid assumed was the nursery for the tiny prince Cyren. It was dark inside now and impossible for anyone to see clearly inside. But Roid didn't need to see. He could smell. _

_There was blood everywhere. He smelt Rosalyn's family mingled with it, but the all-consuming smell was that of Rosalyn's blood, coppery and… _

_His knees hit the ground hard and Roid crawled along the darkened floor, groping blindly for Rosalyn. His chest was painfully tight and his breathing wheezed with the energy it took to breathe. _

_The smooth, cold talons on his hands caught in the soft lace of Rosalyn's skirt. There was a strangled cry from someone but Roid didn't realize it was torn from his throat. He brought her against his chest, making incoherent vows and promises, if only, if only she'd open her eyes. _

_But then, finally, she did. In the darkness of the room, Roid saw his beloved's eyes slide open weakly. His body was warm from the blood the slid onto his legs and hands from Rosalyn's back and his breathing was sobbing out… his heart was exploding and it felt like he would never be able to walk again. _

_Rosalyn smiled at him and for a moment Roid felt the worries and anxiety leave him. But then she turned her head and coughed into her hand, covering her smooth, pale fingers with her own blood. All worries came back… tenfold. _

_"Rosalyn… Rosalyn… Rosalyn…" he chanted it over and over again as he rocked them both back and forth. Rosalyn so brave as she stared into his eyes. She was dying in his arms, bleeding to death, and he was the one who was trembling. _

_"Roid please… look after… after Cyren for me," she croaked and Roid gave another wild sob as blood dribbled down from her mouth. "Please… Roid… you're the only family he has left now and I—I… I…" she broke off to battle her own tears as she clung vainly to him. "I want you to take care of him, Roid." _

_"He's dead, Rosalyn," he managed to force out, tripping over tears and aches. "I saw that… that soldier throw him over the wall." He had caught a whiff of the child's scent and had recognized it as something akin to Rosalyn's. _

_"No. No… no he's not," Rosalyn said assuredly. "It was the plan. The maid handed Cyren off to Zen-Fai long before she ran to the walls. He's—he's safe… Roid… oh, Roid… I know—Cyren's—he's safe. Please take—care—take care… of him." _

_"Don't say things like that," Roid sobbed and brought her closer to him, as close as he could get. "Don't say horrible things like that. You're going to be fine… Rosalyn…" _

_"Zen-Fai's a good man," Rosalyn went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "He served my family well but I… I… but he's… he's not a soft man and he'll be… be s—so miserable aw—away from his son. Will you please, Ro—" She couldn't finish her last few words as she gagged on the life that flowed passed her lips. _

_"I promise. I promise. I promise, Rosalyn. I promise that nothing will ever harm Cyren. Just stay with me." He would promise her the moon if he thought it would keep Rosalyn alive. But he was a Metal Head, he could sense her impending death and it cracked what little pieces of his heart remained. _

_With a serene, Rosalyn-like smile, the young woman lifted herself up. Roid shook his head in denial as Rosalyn pressed her lips against his forehead, his cheek, his mouth. "I love… Roid I—love… you. I just wanted—" _

_Silence filled the room, filled the broken contours of his heart. A howl tore its way through Roid's throat as he held the bloodied, broken body of the one person who had ever cared about him. He buried his face in her platinum mane and begged and begged her to come back. _

_For hours he sat with her until he thought that he would just stay there like that, forever Rosalyn's protector, even in death. He lowered them both down on the ground, keeping her tucked against his body. _

_But then… _

_Then he remembered Cyren, the last bit of Rosalyn's blood that still circulated on the earth. Roid had made a promise to Rosalyn that he would watch over the boy. He had promised Rosalyn. One of the last things he had said to her. _

_He sat on his hunches and looked down at the beautiful girl. She was like a Sleeping Beauty, only no kiss would ever wake her up from her slumber. Roid gripped her hand and pressed a kiss against it. _

_"I will protect the boy you love, Rosalyn, and I will see the Yoshimoro family is carried on in your honor. This I promise," he told the lifeless body and clung to it one last time. Then he stroked Rosalyn's face and laid her gently on the ground. _

_There was no way for Roid to even stay to watch them light Rosalyn's pyre. But he didn't know if he could handle watching Rosalyn's delicate, sensuous skin be reverted to nothing more than a pile of ashes. He thought he would go crazy. _

_With one last kiss goodbye to Rosalyn and a whispered, "I love you, too", Roid turned and disappeared into the night, preparing to find Zen-Fai and keep his eye on Cyren as he promised. _

_And he would never forget Rosalyn, not until his dying day. _

--&--

"So my father… isn't Zen-Fai?" Cyren asked, his face pale and his lean body trembling. Across from him, Roid shook his head.

"He was one of the few soldiers still loyal to the Yoshimoro family and when Rosalyn suspected the coup d'état of Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi, she and he collaborated to keep you safe. With a little bit of ancient magick, a solid image of you was given to Hirmoyarbeshi so he would believe he had killed you, when in fact Zen-Fai had already made tracks with you to an isolated village," Roid explained gently.

Silence was all around the room. Everyone wore expressions of shock, save Annityn who was as neutral as ever.

"This whole time…" Cyren said hollowly, as he took the medallion Roid handed back to him. His fingers closed over it. "This whole time, Zen-Fai was lying to me? He was never my father."

"Your father was a man named Quintin Yoshimoro and your mother was a woman named Ginyrina Yoshimoro. You have a wide range of family, but the closest blood you had was your aunt, Rosalyn. Zen-Fai was the man promised to protect you to the best of his abilities," Roid said neutrally.

"And you," Cyren croaked out as he turned to Annityn, who met his blazing eyes with her own quiet serenity. "You knew the whole time, too, didn't you? That's why you did that bonding thing."

"Yes," Annityn answered without any hesitation. "I sensed that you were a Yoshimoro, even though Hirmoyarbeshi's data names you dead. You have the look of a Yoshimoro and it was rumored that the king's own sister was involved with a Metal Head." Annityn looked over at Roid and added, "A very rare thing."

"Cyren," Aithne managed, immediately taking on the role of soother. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but Cyren just shook her off.

"I… I just… _can't_." Then he turned and ran away, fast as his legs would carry him.

"Hey, wait—" Venn made the move to go after the young, fleeing boy but Crea stepped in front of him, watching as Cyren ran away.

"No. Let him go." She looked Venn directly in the eye, barely flinching as their gazes met. "This is a lot of information to take in."

"Like hell I'm letting him go out alone," Aithne snarled as she glared heatedly at Crea. "I'm going after him."

"Aithne," Jak began but silenced himself when his daughter's fevered glare met his concerned blue eyes.

"_You_ stay out of this. It doesn't concern you, _Jak Mar_," Aithne growled before she turned and took off in the same direction Cyren had run to moments earlier. She didn't even glance back at the others.

"So," Maelia said softly, her eyes wide and her hands clasped. "This whole time Cyren has been… royalty? That must be way Zen-Fai never let Cyren do things normal teenagers would have done. Because he _wasn't_ normal. He was really Cyren Yoshimoro, heir apparently to the Sage-Harmona throne."

"And that's why," Jak surmised as he turned his gaze onto Roid, "you've been protecting the boy. Because you cared about his aunt?"

"It's hard for you to believe that a Metal Head could have feelings for another person, isn't it?" Roid shot back, not annoyed… just tired. He was mentally exhausted from reliving the memories he had of that terrible day when everything had been taken from him. And he didn't want to have to deal with Jak Mar right now.

"Yeah," Jak answered with a shrug. "It is. I've spent my entire life fighting Metal Heads. It's kind of hard for me to believe that those monsters are actually capable of thought."

"We were monsters when you killed our numbers in the hundreds," Roid replied honestly. "Kor used his twisted dark eco to lower our thinking power, turning us into his own personal slaves. When you killed him, we were free, free to think. That was when we become the animals you see today."

"I still don't trust you," Jak pointed out and Roid shrugged.

"As long as that doesn't stop me from continuing to protect Cyren then I don't care," the Metal Head answered truthfully.

"Speaking of Cyren," Venn said at last, sidestepping Crea and pointedly ignoring her. "What should we do with him? Should we go get him and Aithne?"

"Allow him a few hours to settle into things," Annityn commanded, finally raising her voice. "Aithne will help him. Cyren must learn to accept who he is and what his destiny will be."

"I guess that means we aren't traveling, then," Venn replied with a shrug. "I'm going to go hunt for some fruit and meat."

"I will join you," Annityn added and withdrew her daggers from the backs of her knees. Venn motioned her to follow him.

--&--

Aithne followed Cyren's footsteps in the dirt, calling out his name every so often. Her voice, however, was often lost in the rush of the wild wind. Eventually, she gave up and simply followed Cyren's tracks.

She found herself near the outskirts of the desert once more. The sun blistered above her and she swatted fruitlessly at her brow.

_Cyren Yoshimoro…_ the thought circled again and again in her head. How could Cyren be a Yoshimoro? Royalty? He was her best friend. How could he be a prince to some city without even a suspicion on her side? She should have suspected something, should have realized there was something different about Cyren.

But she had never suspected a thing. Not until Roid had dropped that bomb on her, and everyone else.

What made it worse was that Cyren hadn't suspected a thing either.

Tears prickled at the corners of Aithne's eyes and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep a sob from escaping. _Cyren's a Yoshimoro… that means, when this is all over, he's going to go rule Sage-Harmona. I'll—I'll never see him again._

The thought of never seeing Cyren—his bright smiles and laughing eyes—made Aithne's body clench in rebellion. She couldn't imagine her life without him. Couldn't imagine going throughout her days with seeing his warm smiles.

He meant something to her, damnit. He was one of the few men who meant something to her. Why was Fate taking him away from her?

"Cyren!" she called again. The grainy wind whipped it away from her mouth. "Cyren!"

There had been something… princely about him, Aithne supposed. Cyren had always held himself with a regal air, though he had never been snobby. He had just seemed… more dignified, mature, than everyone else.

After a few more minutes of walking, Aithne found him. It was hard to miss, after all. In the bright, blazing sun Cyren's platinum hair shone out against the sky like a beacon.

The young man sat at the top of a pile of ruins. They stuck out of the ground with a stair-like pathway to the arch on top. A flat, smooth platform rested under the arch and was a perfect place to stretch and think.

If it wasn't in the middle of the goddamn desert.

"Cyren," she said softly and climbed up the big, stair-like stones. There were about five of them, and she was only a head or so taller than each. It took her a good fifteen minutes to climb all the way up to the top.

When she ascended the last step and wearily plopped herself down beside him, Cyren didn't even look at her. Aithne wasn't sure if she was hurt or not. Normally, the bright-haired boy had a smile and a friendly greeting for her. But, then again, if she had been in his position, she wouldn't have been all that eager for company.

After a long moment of silence, Cyren did glance at her and his eyes were dark and guarded. "Everything's a lie. Everything that Fath—Zen-Fai told me," he said hollowly, staring out into the circling sands.

"I—I… Cyren…" Aithne trailed off hopelessly because what was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do?

Cyren unfolded his fingers, revealing the medallion Zen-Fai had pressed into his palm with his dying breath. "This whole time… I thought I was Zen-Fai's son… but I wasn't, was I? I was just a duty to him. _A duty_."

"No, no, Cyren," she protested instantly, touching his shoulders lightly. "Zen-Fai did love you. But he _was_ a soldier. He didn't know how to show it."

"Do you—do you remember when we… when we found him?" he questioned softly, his eyes hollow and distant. Beside him, Aithne gave a weak nod. "He told me… he told me to tell his son that he loved him."

Aithne was quiet because she knew what Cyren was going to say. But she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and clasping his hand, covering the medallion with her own. She stared into his eyes, calm and understanding.

For once, she would be there for him. Cyren had always been there for her, standing proudly by her side, supporting her, giving her emotional backup. And she had always needed it. But this time it was Cyren who was on the verge of a breakdown and this time it was Aithne who had to be the strong one, the soothing one, the calming one.

The reverse in roles both frightened and excited her.

"I thought… I thought he was talking about me. I thought I was his son." Tears filled Cyren's dark eyes and Aithne felt her heart twist in pain, for him, because of him. "But… I'm not. I never was. Somewhere out there is a man who was Zen-Fai's real son… and I took that away from him." Cyren's head drooped to his chest and his shoulders began to shake.

Her fingers tightened over his. "Look at me, Cyren. _Look at me_." Cyren raised his misty eyes to hers. "Zen-Fai wasn't forced to come. It was a plan. If he wanted to be with his son, he would've stayed. He loved you, Cyren. He loved you and what he knew you would do." She gripped his shoulders, looking him dead in the eyes even as she battled her own inner demons. "He saw great things in you, Cyren. I see them, too."

"No," Cyren replied, very quietly. He looked over at her, his face pale and his hands shaking slightly. "No. I can't… I can't. I can't… _rule a city_."

"But you can," Aithne countered swiftly. Her heart pounded in protest against her ribs. She ignored it. "I can see you doing it, Cyren. If… _when_… we win against Sage-Harmona, it'll need a ruler. A kind ruler. A caring ruler. You have the qualities to be a great ruler, Cyren."

And it was the truth. Aithne wasn't just saying it to comfort Cyren. She believed it, deep down in her core. There was something in Cyren, something strong and soft all at once, that she knew would make him the greatest leader there ever was.

At the same time, it made her sadder than she could ever imagine being. He would leave. Cyren, the one person she needed, had to leave. There was a whole city waiting for him, needing him. He would go and she would be alone once more.

Tears clogged her throat, but she closed her throat and shielded her mind to them. She couldn't let Cyren peek into her thoughts. She had to seem strong, to him at least. She could not effect his decision.

"But… Aithne… I—I can't leave… _you_." Cyren dropped the medallion and it clattered to the stone ground. He reached out and grabbed her upper arms. "I _won't_ leave you. I want… I want to stay with you."

"You'll have to go, Cyren," she told him softly, telling herself the same thing over and over again in her head. "You'll have to. Those people there… they need you. You were _born_ to lead them."

"I don't… _no_. Aithne, I can't leave you. I _need_ you. I love you." Though she winced when he said it, she allowed Cyren to bring her into his arms, dropping his head down onto her chest, his body trembling. "Please, Aithne, please. Please don't pull away. Just this once."

Though her fingers were poised to push, Aithne realized with a jolt that she didn't want to. She wanted to cling, to memorize the feel of him against her. She wanted to freeze this moment in her mind forever because he would leave her one day.

Her arms locked around his neck and she pressed him to her, holding her own tears. Crying would do nothing to change the outcome. Cyren would go to Sage-Harmona and rule it, she would return to Haven City and rebuild her wreck of a life.

"Aithne…" Cyren breathed in awe, surprised at the strength in her clinging. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, and they held themselves there for an eternity, a moment. Then Cyren shifted position so it was she who had to look at him.

He leaned in and Aithne knew it was a bad idea. She knew that love brought nothing but pain. Her mother was living—so far—proof of that. But somehow, her body and her heart would not listen to her mind and she found herself bending at her waist.

Their lips met, but in a gentle, almost caressing way. It was not like the first kiss, which had been desperate and unsure. Aithne shivered and Cyren lowered his arms to her waist, holding her lightly. Aithne's hands gripped his shoulders in a soft grasp as their lips brushed and mated, performing the ancient steps that men and women had been dancing since the dawn of time.

She drew away, the taste of him burning her lips. Cyren looked steadily into her eyes, reading them better than anyone else could. He raised one hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Aithne—" he started.

"We should go back, Cyren. Everyone's worried about you," she interjected.

Cyren said nothing but stood. He understood that she didn't wish to discus what had transpired between them in that brief and powerful kiss. And they both knew that eventually they would have to come to terms with it.

Aithne accepted the hand Cyren held down to her and he lifted her to her feet. She looked at him, her heart beating loudly in her chest. Everything had been said in that kiss, everything had become clear.

But she was afraid. Afraid of what it meant. All her life, she had run from these emotions, blocking them out, hiding the true affection she had for Cyren. And now that she was aware of them, she didn't know how to handle them. She didn't know what to do.

For he would be going to Sage-Harmona… without her.

_Love brings you nothing but pain_. She knew she was right. Love was what destroyed people. Her mother, Daxter, Tess. Was she destined to join their ranks? Was she destined to be a victim of love?

Could she be strong enough to bury her emotions for Cyren? Could she forget them when the time came? Or would she simply waste away, unable and unwilling to live without him. She was so afraid that she would not be able to live without Cyren.

At the same time, could she just ignore her feelings for him? They burned so brightly within her, she was surprised that she didn't blind everyone. How could she simply just ignore them? Did she even want to?

She closed her eyes, gripping Cyren's hand in his own. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think what would come down the road yet. All she wanted was this time with Cyren, exploring her feelings for him.

But she knew falling in love with him was going to be the biggest mistake of her life.

--&--

"Maybe we should… I dunno… go after them?" Maelia suggested, biting her fingernails and alternatively hopping on one foot.

Ryu, from his position on Venn's wagon, glared at her. He was nervous and worried as well and Maelia's antsy actions weren't helping him stay calm either. "Maybe you should shut up?" he suggested.

Her strawberry-blonde hair whipped around her face as she turned to glare at him. "You're _so_ mean! I'm worried about them." Her eyes became soft again as she turned back to the face the way Aithne had run off. "I'm worried about Aithne. This _has_ to be hard on her."

"Why? It's not like she's the one whose whole life turned out to be a lie." Ryu frowned, suddenly. "Well, I guess that's not true. Jak _is_ alive, after all."

"Idiot," she scoffed. "You're so oblivious to everything. Aithne's in love with him."

"Cyren?" Ryu snorted without waiting for an answer. He reclined against the wood of the wagon and closed his eyes. "Yeah right."

"It's true. They love each other. Aithne hadn't realized it yet, but I think she's starting to. And now Cyren's going to leave to reclaim his city. That's horrible." She sent a sidewise look at him. "I can't imagine losing someone I love like that."

"You're not going to lose anyone," Ryu pointed out calmly, but there was a hard edge to his voice. He opened one eye to look at her humorlessly. "All you ever worry about is who loves you and who doesn't."

"I never worry about _you_," Maelia spat venomously, hiding the hurt she always felt at his stabs. "You can _rot_ for all I care."

"Same here," Ryu returned hotly, his rage covering up his discomfort at Maelia's words. Did she really care so little for him? The thought bothered him greatly.

"I can't stand here and do nothing!" Maelia grumbled and kicked her shoe into the dirt. "How can you?"

"They'll come back," was all Ryu said. And it was all Ryu ever said to her whenever she asked the question. "It's called faith and trust."

"I have that, but it's called _friendship_ that makes me worry." She stuck her tongue out at him. "You wouldn't get that, of course." Ryu shot her a glare but said nothing. Maelia gave a snort and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look sour.

Finally, after a long silence, Ryu mumbled, "You are so immature."

"I'm immature?" Maelia exploded, wheeling around and pointing at him. "_You're immature!_ You sit there and scowl and make fun of people! I worry because I care. Do you care about _anything_, Ryu?"

"I care…" Ryu muttered under his breath, looking away. Maelia raised a haughty brow, like a mother would after catching her child in the cookie jar.

"I doubt it," she drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, Mae, I do—wait!" Maelia turned her back completely on him and stomped away, heading for the burning sands of the desert. "Stop! Come back! _Damnit_." He hopped off from the cart and chased after her.

Maelia barreled blindly forward, ignoring Ryu's indignant cries for her to stop. In fact, she kept on going and going just because Ryu kept pace with her. By the time Ryu finally had had enough and grabbed her shoulders, they had walked a good few yards away from the encampment.

"Listen, you—" Ryu began harshly as he spun her around, forcing her to meet his hot eyes.

"_Leave me alone_!" Maelia shouted. "All you do is mock and humiliate me, Ryutaro Praxis. I don't want to be near you anymore!"

"That's too bad," he replied in a dangerously low tone of voice. "Because I hate to point it out to you, that we're pretty much on our own. If we want to survive, we _have_ to work together, like it or not."

"You treat me like a child!" Maelia cried in frustration, trying to yank herself away and finding the effort fruitless. "When will you see that I'm not? I'm a woman, Ryu! A woman!"

"Maelia…" His voice took on a soft, husky tint at her words.

But Maelia's eyes were on something over his shoulder. Her eyes widened in fear and shock. "Ryu, look—"

He saw them too, but over Maelia's head. Snarling, he grabbed Maelia's wrist, attempting to make a dash for the safety of both the trees and numbers. Maelia screamed and pointed as he turned around.

"Metal Heads!"

"Yeah, I see them," Ryu snapped back, keeping Maelia securely behind him. There were about twenty or so, and they were big. Scout Metal Heads, like Roid.

One snarled at him and lunged. Maelia cart-wheeled away, Ryu not close behind. He grabbed her wrist again and dragged her deeper into the sands. It whipped at their faces, tearing at their skin. Maelia coughed and gagged, barely able to make her voice shout out warnings for Ryu.

"Keep running!" he shouted. A Metal Head lunged again, sinking its claws into the flesh of his leg. Ryu screamed, letting Maelia's hand go as he fell. He felt the Metal Head's pointed teeth rip through his flesh. "Ooooooow!"

Maelia screamed and threw her foot into the Metal Heads face. The Metal Head went soaring back and Maelia helped Ryu again to his feet. "C'mon! C'mon!" she shouted as he limped behind her.

Blood spilled onto the ground. Ryu felt dizzy from pain and the loss of his life force. Black dots swarmed his vision and he gagged on the oxygen going into his lungs.

The young, blonde girl dragging him whipped her head around, coils bouncing. "Ryu? Are you al—" Her mouth twisted in a scream.

Beneath their feet, the ground gave out. Ryu barely managed to grasp Maelia's hand firmly in his own before they were sent hurtling downward, into the dark abyss below them. Maelia's shriek of terror filled the inky chasm as down they went…

…down

…down

…down

Ryu didn't hit the hard ground. Instead, he splashed into water. Kicking and flailing, keeping a firm hold on Maelia, he struggled to gain hold of land. His fingers slid into a slippery mud bank and with gritted teeth, he heaved himself and Maelia onto the smooth, solid ground. His feet still dangled in the water.

"An underground cavern," he breathed, glancing upward at the light that spilled in from above their heads. "It seems that it's our lucky day, huh? …Maelia?"

He glanced down at the strawberry-blonde girl beneath him. She was nestled into the crock of his arm, her body flopping in a rag doll fashion when he touched her.

"Oh… no… oh no… oh no… no no no no no," he croaked again and again as he lowered his fingers to the pulse in Maelia's throat.

Nothing.

"Maelia?" he cried out, touching her wet lips. They were parted, but cold. Water droplets clung to her body, sliding down her still chest. "Wake up," he whispered weakly, shaking her. "Oh… no… Mar, no. Maelia!"

But she wasn't breathing.

* * *

**notes:** oh noes!

**Act XVIII:** hey, are those Metal Heads?

**reviews**

**Specter Von Baren:** college? Good luck to you. I've been that college is like high school. On acid. As far as the reviews, I'm pleased to inform you that while Jak IV is getting a proud number of reviews, the _hits_ are amazing. People just don't review.

**Xazz:** and I am so pleased.

**CrazyFFKHOttsel:** looks like I'm doing the job. The point I'm trying to get to it making people feel bad for both Jak _and_ Aithne. Their respective lives such, respectively.

**silvermerald202:** XD yes, I can see why it's easy to get mad at Aithne. Unfortunately, that was just who she wanted to be. No sweet, well-mannered child for Aithne Hagai.

**Darkening Lightning:** in the original version of this chapter I had a less intense confrontation between Jak and Aithne, but I felt it needed something more, something tight and dramatic. So I just went crazy-editing and got that scene.

**AngelSilentWind:** yup, he did. Roid is chalk-full of mysteries and answers.

**Carree:** oh no, don't feel bad at all. I always like when readers give their thoughts and ideas for chapters. Last chapter was rushed, I knew, but there was just so much I needed to get in before we could move on that I scarified quality for quantity.

**GundamWingFanatic90:** I'm pleased that more people have accepted Aithne's reaction more than despise her for it… but more importantly two Social Studies courses? Sweet Lord… I'd kill myself. Government is owning my brain enough as it. Thinking about another class makes me want to weep.

**Teh Kistune:** your constant guessing makes me so happy. And, as you can above, you keep hitting pretty close to the mark. And I was leery about how Cyren always takes Aithne's side, but as you'll see he's gonna have to become his own person now. And, sadly, Tage will only have two more small cameos in Part Three. It's only toward the middle of Part Four where he's a major player. XD


	18. Too Far, Too Fast

**Disclaimer:** I hereby claim that I do not own the Jak series

**Author's Notes:** so this is late. Again. What a surprise right? School is such a hassle, especially the first semester. What with SAT and college planning and all that stuff. Hopefully, things will get easier after Christmas!

**warnings:** none

* * *

**Act XVIII: Too Far, Too Fast **

Jak Mar's eyes narrowed as he watched his daughter return with Cyren trailing weakly behind.

He understood the boy's predicament, yes. The city that had orchestrated the downfall of Haven, had hounded both him and his friends, and had killed both his family and his surrogate father, was his to rule.

What must that feel like, Jak wondered. Knowing that this evil, twisted thing was supposed to be yours? That you were supposed to be controlling it, not some madman hell-bent on controlling every breathing thing?

But still, no matter what Cyren was going through, nor how much he needed Aithne, Jak couldn't stand the way they looked at each other. It was a father's internal instincts to consider anyone who might have an interest in his daughter as a threat. And this held true for Jak, even though Aithne would never consider him her father.

Roid moved forward, bypassing Aithne and moving for Cyren. Aithne, her eyes burning, stepped in front of the Metal Heads path. She looked near the point of growling, and her teeth were bared.

"Aithne," Cyren said gently, placing a hand on the girls shoulder. "It's alright, I want to talk to him." Gently, with all the tenderness and love that was accustom to his person, he pushed her away.

"I did what was necessary," Roid said, stating a fact. "You needed to know."

"Yes," Cyren agreed, and Jak blinked. There was a new strength in the boy's voice. It was as if he had aged years in the span of a few minutes. "I did need to know. Thank you for telling me."

The Metal Head must have sensed the change as well for he blinked at the boy. Roid leaned in close, looking deep into Cyren's dark violet eyes. Then with a nod, he pulled back.

"You are becoming a man," he explained to Cyren gently.

Cyren looked away.

Annityn stepped forward, reaching out and tugging the medal around Cyren's neck free. "This… is the symbol of the Yoshimoro line. They have ruled Sage-Harmona since its foundation with a firm yet, kind hand."

"That was why you chose me, wasn't it?" Cyren guessed, pulling back the chain. "Because you knew I was a Yoshimoro?"

"Yes."

"Why? I'm a threat to Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi, aren't I?"

"But I was severing ties with him," Annityn explained in her cold, lifeless voice. "I knew I could serve you best. I will see you onto the throne of Sage-Harmona before I am free from my servitude."

"The throne…" Cyren said in a pained voice. Annityn nodded.

"Yes, the—"

"Hey," Aithne interjected, looking around. "Where's Maelia… and Ryu?"

"They were arguing a while ago…" Jak spoke up, barely wincing as his daughter pinned him down with an angry look. "That's the last I saw them…"

"Likely then they're still having a screaming match somewhere," Roid surmised. He glanced over at Annityn as she nodded.

"Shall I go look—" again Annityn was cut off. This time, however, she did it herself.

Roid went on alert too, hunching onto all fours and snarling.

Jak swung around, whipping out his gun. Though he could not see nor hear anything, both Annityn and Roid had superhuman senses and he trusted their instincts.

Even if he didn't trust them.

"What is it?" he demanded to know.

Annityn's eyes closed for a brief moment. "Big," she said as she opened her eyes. "Five… six… seven… seven of them. Moving fast… on your left."

At her dispassionate tone, Jak swung around. His bullet rocketed off, blasting from its barrel. The hulk of a Metal Head went flying backwards, landing on the ground in a mess of blood and twitching limbs.

Instantly, he turned to see the camp. Annityn reached for her daggers, calculating her opponents with quiet eyes. Roid had placed himself in front of Cyren and Cyren had brought out his bow staff. Aithne was judging her enemies as she nervously twirled her sais.

_Where the hell are Crea and Venn?_ Jak wondered.

Just as he thought it, Venn and Crea came rushing in, Venn's black trench coat flapping behind them both like raven's wings. Crea's lithe and agile body was already moving, firing rounds into their Metal Head foes. Venn had his axe out and was swinging it around with deadly promises.

Crea's fresh, attractive face was monotone as she blasted a Metal Head that came up on her side. Her blonde hair flowed elegantly in the wind as her legs were splattered with blood.

Venn was right behind her, grabbing a Metal Head by its lunging shoulders and throwing him to the ground, digging his axe deep into its brain.

But there were more. Annityn said there was only seven of the Metal Heads, but Jak counted over twenty. He glanced at the dark-haired girl.

"A miscalculation," she explained.

_Yeah, great_, Jak thought, watching as Annityn lunged and planted her dagger directly into a Metal Head's eye. He reloaded and jumped forward, rolling onto his back and firing round after round into the Metal Head's dying carcass.

"Damnit!" he shouted as another Metal Head rose to take the dead one's place. "How many more have we got!?"

"Impossible to say!" Roid shouted back, not looking at all ashamed of himself as he snapped the neck of a fellow Metal Head. "They keep on coming."

"_Shit_!" he snarled, raising his gun again. He dared to glance over at Aithne and Cyren, his heart pounding and his blood rushing.

The two youths had been branched off from the rest of them and they fought gallantly by themselves, both skilled fighters, though Cyren was obviously much better suited for fighting than Aithne.

They moved in perfect unison, Aithne's attacks built for speed and precision and Cyren's for speed and strength. Aithne focused on kicking and dodging, Cyren used his arms to propel his jagged bow staff into his enemies.

Jak felt jealously at it, just a little.

But then he turned back to the battle, keeping his guns alive with firepower. Roid bumped into him solidly, but Jak did not falter. Annityn's daggers flew over his head without any word or warning, but Jak did not flinch.

This was where Jak shined. He was _meant_ for this. The grueling, grimy battles, fighting side-by-side with his allies as he brought down his enemies. Metal Heads, Sage-Harmona soldiers… it didn't matter. He fought them all and with the same unerring determination that made him Jak Mar.

Until he turned back to see how Aithne and Cyren were faring…

A claw slashed across Aithne's face, coloring it with blood. The red, coppery liquid dripped down onto her neck as she was pressed into the dirt. Cyren's scream of rage and fear filled the air.

_Aithne… no…!_

Dropping all other thoughts, Jak made a mad dash for his daughter, trying to load another round into his Blaster Gun as fast as he could.

But Aithne was already climbing to her feet, blood dropping down the side of her face. She snarled at the Metal Head and slammed one of her sais into the Metal Head's side. The creature howled as Aithne flipped herself back onto her feet so she had the height to thrust her second sai into the Metal Head's forehead.

Again and again the same thought was floating in her head: _protect Cyren. Protect Cyren! Protect! I can't let him die!_

"Aithne! Aithne, _no_! Stay down! Stay down!" Cyren shouted, but Aithne ignored him, thinking only of protecting him. She took to her feet.

A claw ripped into her shoulder, tearing through flesh and bone. Aithne clamped her mouth down over a scream of pain and twisted her body around, yanking her shoulder free. She jammed her sai into the thick skull of the Metal Head as her vision blurred.

_I won't let you hurt Cyren!_ she thought fiercely as she back flipped another Metal Head claw.

She felt dizzy. Her equilibrium was shot. Blood flowed steadily from her shoulder as her legs almost gave out. But the thought of the Metal Heads mutilating Cyren kept her on her feet and attacking Metal Head after Metal Head.

A Metal Head rushed her and Aithne was too weakened to even think about fighting. She could barely turn to face her death. She closed her eyes, accepting the fact that this was it. This was where she was going to die…

Something heavy hit her back and she crashed into the ground, the air rushing from her lungs. Cyren's scent invaded her nostrils and she jolted back into action. She tried to push herself back to her feet, but Cyren kept a firm hold on her.

"No, Aithne! No!" he shouted somewhere far from her mind. "You're bleeding. Stay down! Stay down!"

Didn't he understand. She had to protect him. But she was too weak to even struggle against his hold.

Metal Head claws crunched the ground at her feet. Aithne weakly lifted her head and found herself staring at a thin, Sniper-class Metal Head, gun in hand and ready to fire. She curled herself against Cyren.

The Metal Head raised his gun and aimed it at them. His finger tightened to fire and—

"Hold, Epsi Wind!"

That was Roid's voice and what was even more surprising was that the Metal Head obeyed. He turned away from Aithne and Cyren and motioned for his Metal Head brethren to hold them prisoners.

When he turned to face Roid, Aithne saw that her allies were also in similar situations, all captured and bleeding.

Except Maelia and Ryu… where were they?

--&--

For a blind moment, Ryu lay beside Maelia's stilled body and trembled.

_She can't be dead. Not Maelia… I'll never get to tell her… tell her that I love her… oh, Mar… oh please, no…_

Then he jolted upward, cursing and sobbing and shaking. He rolled Maelia onto her back, her body flopping like a rag doll, and pinched her nose.

_Krimzon Guard training technique. If the teammate is ceasing to breathe you must act as their lungs. You must be their heart. _

"I'll be your heart, Maelia. I'll be your heart. Just don't die." He lowered his mouth onto hers and breathed gently, forcing the oxygen into her lungs. _Take it Maelia, please. I need you. I need you. _

But there was still no pulse when he checked.

His fingers found her rib cage and he used them to guide his hands to her breastbone. He pressed his palms together and began to press his weight down onto her heart, pumping her blood because her body refused to do it for her.

Then he pressed his mouth against hers, breathing for her lungs. He returned to his compressions. Then he offered more air.

How long he attempted to drag Maelia back from the hands of death, he didn't know. All he knew was that his hands wouldn't stop shaking and his face was wet with his salty tears as he began pounding on her chest, his breath sobbing out.

"Maelia—Mae—please… _no_… wake up. Damn you, get up!" he shouted at her, burying his head against her neck and sobbing softly. He gripped her tight, so afraid that if he let go she would disappear… forever.

She didn't answer. She remained limp, cold and dead beneath him. He howled, pressing his trembling lips against her moist forehead. She tasted cold. Mar, she tasted cold.

_I'll stay here with you, Maelia. I'll stay here so you never have to be alone again. That's what you've always been afraid of, isn't? Alone. Maelia, you'll never be alone again. I'll never leave you…_

_…I love you. _

Now he wished he had been honest with his feelings for the spunky, moody girl still and quiet below him. He had wished he had kissed her like he wanted to. He wished he had held her and had showed her the love she had been denied all her life.

He pressed their foreheads together, resting his body on top of hers. He would lay with her forever, until his life ebbed away like hers. And when finally he breathed his last, he would join Maelia in the afterlife.

Only…

Maelia jerked. There was a cough and water splattered against Ryu's shoulder. He was so afraid that he didn't dare move. Didn't dare break the dream he had fallen into.

"Ry—Ryu?" Maelia demanded, her voice hoarse. Her hand gripped weakly against his shoulder. "I—I can't brea—breathe."

Instantly, he rolled, so Maelia was on his chest. He stroked her hair, over and over again. Maelia tried to lift herself off him but he held her against his chest, afraid that if they moved the spell would be broken and she would be dead again.

"You were dead… you were dead… you were dead…" he repeated, over and over again like a broken record. Tears coursed down his face. Tears of grief and sadness and joy. Maelia was breathing steadily against him.

She was _breathing_.

"Ryu? Ryu?" She lifted her head and blinked at him, blinked at his face. Shaking, she pressed a hand against his cheek. "Are you… are you _crying_?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

As she continued to blink in confusion, he pressed a shaky kiss to the top of her hair and promptly passed out.

--&--

Roid hadn't meant to call out Epsi Wind's name. The Sniper hadn't recognized him and he would have liked to keep it that way.

But Epsi had proved to be a threat to Cyren. And he had been too involved with his enemies to rescue him. Even Annityn had gotten pinned and wouldn't have managed to get to him in time.

And Roid hadn't wanted to harm Epsi anyway… once, long ago, they had been friends…

So he had shouted his former ally's name. In the Metal Head tradition shouting a full name caused everyone to stop. It was a sign that a superior was addressing a subordinate. Or an ally was speaking to another ally.

Epsi turned and looked at Roid, his skull glowing golden with recognition. He lowered his guns, motioning to his allies to keep hold on the humans.

Roid was released and, on all fours, he approached Epsi. If Roid stood he would tower over the other Metal Head, he knew, and that would make him nervous.

"Roid…" Epsi said, sounding surprised. Epsi was a brilliant Metal Head tactician and surprise was a rare thing for him. "I thought you were dead."

He shook his head. "No. I just defected from the ranks. Kiff would have everyone think I was dead to save both herself and me from explaining."

"Figures you would be alive. You never were one to just simply die." He turned back to Aithne and Cyren as his fellow band of Snipers forced them to their feet. He bared his rows of sharp teeth. "What are you doing in the company of _humans_?"

"I will speak only to Kiff Fire of this," Roid shot back. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Metal Head, but by denying the Sniper that information it would show that Roid was not in a position to be pushed around.

"So you _are_ an enemy," Epsi surmised and Roid was pulled to his feet by two Snipers. "I heard a Metal Head had been seen sniffing around a human… before she got herself killed in the Sage-Harmona coup. Never figured you to mess with those… meat bags."

It took all of his willpower not to lunge and rip out Epsi's throat. And he could. It would be so easy. Epsi had forgotten Roid's strength in their separation.

But he needed Epsi's assistance.

"Say what you will," he managed through gritted teeth. "But I protect the boy… and those who are with him. Harm them and I will bring hell down upon you."

"You protect _all_ of them?" Epsi demanded, leaning in at his waist. "Or just the boy's mate? That girl with the burning eyes?"

"No. All of them."

A howl ripped from Epsi's throat, but Roid didn't flinch. Epsi flashed passed Roid, grabbing Jak Mar roughly and forcing him down beside Roid.

"This man? You protect this man, Roid!?"

"Yes," Roid answered, looking into Jak's burning blue eyes. _Don't do anything stupid. Epsi must be allowed to rant before he will help us. _

"This is Jak Mar!" he snarled, bashing Jak's face with the side of his gun. Jak remained kneeling, unflinching as a small trail of blood moved down his cheek. "This man has killed countless of us! He has killed our family, our kinsmen, our tribes!"

"He has also killed our king," Roid pointed.

"And _her_! You protect this human girl!?" Epsi yanked Annityn over too, roughly by her hair. "She who defended that man in Sage-Harmona? Who promised us salvation and snatched it away? She would have killed us."

"No longer, Epsi Wind. Now she protects the boy as I do." Roid felt no anger at Epsi's words, though hate burned in Jak's. Epsi had seen too many of his loved ones killed by Jak's unwitting gun. From him, Roid knew, there would be no forgiveness.

All he could hope for was an audience with Kiff. For though Kiff's hatred of Jak Mar and the human race ran deep, she was controlled by politics and her people's survival, not her raw emotions.

Jak twisted himself around as Epsi brushed passed them. He moved toward Crea and Venn, stopping as he reached the pair.

The Metal Head bent down so his talons clasped Crea's smooth face. Venn jerked against his captors. "Don't touch her," he snarled.

Crea said nothing and she did nothing as Epsi stared down into her eyes. She wasn't afraid, Roid realized, and that was good. Epsi wouldn't feel nearly as in control if Crea wasn't frightened of him.

"And you. You stink of that city. Sage-Harmona. You stink of the… dead."

The blonde young woman offered nothing and Venn's struggling ceased. He looked over at Crea in confusion, a million questions in his eyes. Crea offered nothing in return.

Then Epsi turned toward the wagon. It was Jak's turn to struggle and he created a clamor. But it wasn't just Jak that started to curse and threaten. Aithne had seen where the Metal Head was going and she cursed just as loudly and profusely as Jak.

"Hmm?" Epsi turned to look at the pair and Roid wondered if he realized that Aithne was a Mar as well. The Sniper was too smart not to know. "What is in here I wonder…?" He pulled aside the curtain and peered inside. He pulled out and looked at Roid. "Who?"

"She is the Mar woman. Keira," Roid explained. "She was poisoned by Sage-Harmona in preparation for turning her into an Experiment." He inclined his head toward Annityn, who made no move to be ashamed.

Epsi's face went guarded, but Roid knew what the Metal Head was thinking. Though his hatred of Jak Mar ran deep and pure, the real threat was currently Sage-Harmona. And if they had rescued Keira it meant they—Roid and the others—were the enemies of Sage-Harmona… and there was an old saying…

"The enemy of my enemy is a friend," Epsi mused, voicing Roid's thoughts. He looked toward the Snipers. "Keep them in holding. Move the Mar woman gently. We take them to Concilio."

"Concilio?" Aithne demanded to know.

"Known as the Metal Head," Annityn said as she switched into her information mode. "A rumored underground metropolis designed and inhabited by Metal Heads alone. Whereabouts and actuality in debate."

Crea and Venn were moved forward. Venn struggled the entire way down and Roid didn't bother to tell the dark-haired man to relax since he wasn't going to listen. Crea simply allowed herself to be dragged, dipping her head and dragging her feet.

Annityn went next and for a moment Epsi looked as if he was deciding with himself if he should end her life then and there. Roid tensed, ready to leap into action if the Metal Head decided on that course.

But the Sniper motioned Annityn to be bundled up with Crea and Venn, and then the rest of them went.

Roid was on edge as it became his turn. Epsi didn't bother to have his Snipers keep a hold on him. They both knew that if he and the others wished to survive they would have to garner Kiff Fire's support.

After so long, after so many years… he was finally going home.

--&--

"Just what is this city like?" Aithne wondered softly, aiming her statement more at Roid than anyone else.

With Epsi Wind in the front, they were led down into an intricate series of darkened tunnels, going deeper and deeper into the earth. Eventually they ended up walking in ankle-deep water.

Roid glanced at her over his shoulder. "Likely something you have never imagined. It has been around for many Metal Head generations, commissioned and raised before the reign of Kor."

"Impossible," Jak scoffed. "If such a place existed for that long then Haven City would have known about it."

"No. They wouldn't have. Our city is the best kept secret you have ever seen." Roid shrugged and glanced down into the darkened tunnel. "Kor preferred to have the nests above ground or in nearby caves so that he was never without soldiers… the city fell into lax. Then, when Kiff Fire became the leader, she built the city up and it has been a safe haven for our persecuted species."

"Persecuted?" Jak snarled at the word. "Last time _I_ checked, you were the ones attacking us."

"Kor had control over us. He dulled out minds with Dark Eco. Our doing was not our own," Roid pointed out.

"And Eris? What about her?"

"They were mostly loyalists of Kor. There were a few, and the ones that were still under his control. But Kiff Fire, our leader, was not involved, nor was Epsi Wind, I imagine. He follows her blindly." Roid looked to that Sniper Metal Head, watched his ears flatten, but made no other motion to show Roid he had heard him.

"Then how come you've been seen slinking around the outskirts of our city?" Jak shot back, not ready to believe for an instant that the creatures he had killed and fought for so long were not inherently evil.

"I cannot speak for that, but it was likely Kiff Fire was making sure you weren't moving against her. Or she was removing the last few nests from above ground." Roid shrugged again. "Her actions have not affected me for a long while."

"They should have," Epsi spoke up suddenly. "They should have, Roid. Your people were dying while you were sniffing around that human of yours—"

"Epsi Wind, if you value your life you will not speak of her that way. That woman was my mate."

That quieted him instantly. Metal Head custom overcame him. Mates were placed in the highest honor, no matter what species. To speak out against one's mate while the other was present was a charge worth death.

Though Roid doubted Epsi Wind himself had a mate, the Sniper dedicated himself to his proud Metal Head customs.

The silence stretched on for many minutes. Roid was pleased with the silence. It was best to formulate a plan as they came onto the city.

And, then, they were finally there.

"Goddess…" That came from Crea, in the front, as she stared down upon the Metal Head metropolis.

Rows and rows of caves and homes had been carved into the walls, all of which circled a large, deep black hole that seemed to go down and down forever. Lights peeped out of the caves.

As Aithne stared down into the dark, dark hole of Concilio, dizziness overwhelmed her. She almost toppled back, Cyren moved forward and braced her against his body and together they both stared down into the abyss.

"Lock him up," Epsi said as he broke the trance. He was motioning to Jak. "When the others find out just _who_ is in their city, none of your meat bags are going to be safe. Until Kiff Fire makes her decision your lives are forfeit."

"Then we should meet this Kiff Fire," Venn suggested.

"_I_ will speak to Kiff Fire. You will say nothing." When every mouth around him opened to protest, Roid stood on his hind legs and raised a hand. "Kiff Fire will not take your opinions to heart. You are humans. You are the enemy. However, she might be more open to _me_."

"Roid's plan is the most logical," Annityn said, having remained silent since she had been captured. Her face was already healing the cuts she had been given. "Metal Heads are bound by tradition and bloodlines."

"You shut up," Epsi snarled. "Lock her up with Jak Mar."

"The girl comes with me," Roid protested, his voice quiet and powerful. Epsi blinked at him.

"Are you crazy, Kiff will—"

"That was the influence of a man known as the Mage. Annityn is not the same girl," Roid explained and his voice left no room for argument. He reached out his talons for Annityn and the dark-haired girl moved to him without a word.

He couldn't explain _why_ he had stood up for Annityn. In all honestly, it would have been easier if he had just allowed her to be imprisoned with Jak Mar. One less threat he had to worry about.

Yet there was something about Annityn that he wanted to protect. She was so young, and so tainted by forces that weren't under her control. Though—due to the dark eco flowing in her blood stream—it was impossible to gauge her age, Roid sensed an unerring youth from her, despite the age in her eyes.

For too long now, he had seen the young die. He wanted to protect this girl, who had had everything ripped from her. He wanted to give her another chance.

"Fine. It's your death certificate," Epsi replied with shrug, continuing his march.

They followed him down winding, large stairs, toward the bottom of the series of caves. The caves were more like rooms, and some even had rocks that doubled as doors. They could not see Metal Heads, but Roid sensed them, peering at them from the darkness. _Humans,_ he could almost hear them snarl, _humans. _

Jak Mar was taken up toward the door of the caves. The prisoners went there, Roid had explained. Aithne hadn't cared and everyone else was too nervous to be too worried. Jak could handle himself.

Slowly they entered a dimly lit room, a fire crackling in the corners. Kiff Fire, an odd mixture of a Juice Goon and a Hose-Head, sat in the center of the room, hunched on her awkwardly shaped body.

Almost instantly, Aithne recoiled. She sensed power in this Metal Head and it put her on edge. This was the leader of the Metal Heads? This powerful, bulky creature? She looked like she could tear anything apart with a flick of her wrist.

"Epsi?" Kiff Fire questioned and raised her body to its full height. She nearly touched the ceiling. "What are _they_ doing here and what… _Roid_?"

"Kiff… it's been awhile," Roid greeted easily, fighting the tension in his spinal cord and his neck. It wasn't that Kiff intimidated him—no one did anymore—but this Metal Head he had once called friend.

"What are you doing here?" Kiff demanded, keeping her voice just as casual as his, as if supposedly dead Metal Heads appeared before her everyday. "And in the company of… these humans…?"

"Jak Mar is among them," Epsi added.

"Jak Mar!?" Kiff bared her teeth in a gruesome snarl. "That man. Roid, you betray everything you know. And—that girl. That damned girl. _You_ work for Hirmoyarbeshi. His hide will decorate my hall soon enough."

"I must speak with you, Kiff. For now, humans and Metal Heads must not exist. For now, it must be only Roid—protecting these children—speaking to Kiff… for our future. You are a leader now, Kiff. Surely you understand this?"

Kiff Fire stared at him, her eyes burning like hot coals into his eyes. Roid stared right back, knowing he couldn't back down.

"Epsi, find rooms for these humans. Give them something soft to sleep on," Kiff ordered as she regarded her second-in-command. "Roid, you and I will talk."

--&--

"I… must agree… Hirmoyarbeshi _is_ the greatest threat for Metal Heads… but… do you mean to have us make _peace_ with these humans, Roid? Do you?" Kiff Fire demanded hours later, after Roid had explained the situation to her.

"Kiff, if you cling to past hatred and prejudice then everyone will die out." Roid sat across from his former friends, legs curled under his body. "Even if you cannot keep your hatred from boiling in the future, for now there must be a truce."

"I… understand…" Kiff frowned, looking away for a moment. "Many will not like this, Roid. But I shall put my support behind this boy… Cyren Yoshimoro, as the rightful heir to the Sage-Harmona throne."

"Cyren is a good bo—no, he is a good _man_—and he will be a fine king," Roid paused, wondering if it was wise to say the words hovering on his tongue. Then he charged forward, since it was the truth. "He is not bound by prejudice, Kiff. He has accepted me, and the girl Annityn, without qualms. I think… his reign will be best for your people."

"My people, Roid? When did they stop being _your_ people?" Kiff Fire shook her head, suddenly. "No. I don't care about that. I want to know, why did you leave?"

"Kiff… you have a right to know. We were friends." Roid settled once more onto the smooth stone floor. "Do you remember… after Kor died? It was assumed I was going to lead us."

"Yes. You had the blood of the kings in you, Roid. The kings who had lead us long before Kor's tyranny." Kiff looked at him, half-confused, as if she didn't know where he was going with it.

"But was I the best for the leadership role, Kiff? No, I wasn't." Roid looked at her, tried to remember what it was like to consider this Metal Head a friend. "You were. I knew you were. But because of your mixed blood… no one would look at you. So I… left… left so they would have no choice."

"Roid…" Kiff's voice was carefully emotionless and pride bloomed in his chest. Yes, she was the leader he had always thought her to be. "You are not a bad leader."

"I know. But I had my people—our people—to think of. And you were the best. So I left. I left and wandered until I…" _Found Rosalyn…_ but he didn't say that. He didn't want Kiff to know about that part of his life. He didn't want anyone to know. Cyren had to… Rosalyn was a part of his life as well… but Rosalyn was something sacred and wonderful and he didn't want to share it with Kiff…

"Then you decided to look after a boy? A human boy?"

"I promised someone I would," Roid answered and offered no more. Kiff didn't ask. Perhaps she didn't want to know. "But that is neither here nor there. We must plan our move against Sage-Harmona."

"Agreed… but it grows late. Tomorrow… tomorrow I must face the people, Roid. I need my rest for that." Kiff stood on her claws, looking over at him. "Is there anything else you require?"

"Yes. There is. Before our capture by Epsi Wind—who is the perfect spymaster, might I add—there were two members in our group that went missing. Perhaps your soldiers found them?" Roid questioned, remembering bright-haired, laughing Maelia and angry, moody Ryu.

"I remember a report on two human cornered in the desert. We lost them when they fell into an underground mine shaft. I'll send out a search party. Epsi Wind will head it."

"Thank you," Roid answered as he flattened himself out against the ground with his wings spread out in a perfect bow.

--&--

Maelia heard their footfalls against the water. She stood up, gently moving Ryu's limp head from her lap and onto the mossy floor. Shaking, she approached the noise, eyes narrowed and body poised to leap.

When the first Metal Head appeared in her view, slim and lean, Maelia screamed and threw herself against the creature. Instantly, her wrists were cuff and she was held almost completely immobile against her captor.

But still, she continued to fight, kicking her legs and cursing at the Metal Head. She stopped suddenly when she was placed back on the ground.

"Calm down, you silly human. I'm not here to eat you," the voice answered and Maelia recognized it.

Narrowing her eyes, she peered at him through the darkness. "It's _you_. That Metal Head that helped me and Ryu in the Sage-Harmona palace."

"I was helping myself, really," the Metal Head explained. "I've been ordered to bring you to the city… by our leader, Kiff Fire."

"B—but why?"

"We've made… a _peace_ with your friends. Roid… and _Jak Mar_," the Metal Head replied, sounding as if he was gritting his teeth against rage and hate.

"Aithne… and Roid… Cyren…? They're alright." Maelia jumped on the balls of her heels, excitement pumping through her. "Okay. Okay. Help me get Ryu. He's unconscious, but he's not in any real danger. This way."

As she turned back to lead them down to where Ryu rested, Epsi Wind watched her go. She seemed to now be at perfect ease, surrounded by the Metal Heads that mere seconds ago had been her enemies.

_Humans are the strangest creatures,_ Epsi Wind said with a shake of his head. He motioned for his small party to follow him down.

The young boy that Maelia led them too had a steady pulse, Epsi's superhuman hearing picked it up immediately. He was likely just exhausted. He flicked his wrist and had a Metal Head bundling Ryu up in his scaly arms.

Ryutaro Praxis moaned, his eyes fluttering open weakly. Maelia stroked his damp hair. "It's alright, Ryu. It's alright." Ryu's eyes closed and he passed out once more. Maelia shook her head, her strawberry blonde curls bouncing.

"Follow me," Epsi Wind told her and lead the way back into the city. He felt like a traitor on every level, leading a human willingly into the Metal Heads' last safe haven.

Kiff Fire was going to have the weather fury and rage over her decision to aid the humans. As her second in commander, and her spymaster, Epsi Wind would stand beside all her decisions, even if he would never trust humans.

"Wow," Maelia breathed as her eyes fell upon Epsi's city. And no matter who—or what—she was, pride filled him at her awe-inspired words. Yes, Concilio was something to behold.

"I'll show you to your room. Your friends are already resting." He glanced at her over his shoulder and added, "Jak Mar has been released… against my better judgment."

Maelia and Ryu's lodgings were the caves toward the very bottom of the deep hole. Epsi Wind abandoned them halfway down, leaving only the Metal Head carrying Ryu to show Maelia down.

When they entered the cave, a small room with a crackling fire and what must have been the Metal Head's idea of a human mattress, it was dark.

"Where are our friends?" Maelia demanded softly, squinting her eyes so she could see if Aithne was hiding in the shadows. She wasn't, of course.

"The cave beside yours and the ones on this level are homes for your friends," the Metal Head grunted, dropping Ryu's limp form onto the mattress.

"And just where am I supposed to sleep!?" Maelia demanded.

"With your mate," the Metal Head answered, lifting a shoulder toward Ryu's form.

"He's not my—" But the Metal Head was gone before Maelia could finish her protest. Banking a moan of frustration, she kicked at a rock and listened to it ricochet off the wall. She left the room, pacing.

_Just what makes them think that Ryu's my… er… boyfriend? _

--&--

Crea stared down at the long, deep chasm that Concilio was built around. Her body trembled slightly, but her face was as smooth and emotionless as stone.

_"You stink of the… dead…" _

A long shudder worked it's way up her spine. The Metal Head had been right. She did stink of the dead… because the Mage _was_ death. His touch left her marked, left her less than human.

She didn't need a Metal Head's nose to tell her that.

In the darkest corner of her mind, when she didn't keep her guard up, she could still feel that power peeling apart the layers of her skull. She could see the Mage in his Venn-face, making a mockery out of a good man…

…Crea considered lowering her head to the ground and praying for it to end. _Goddess… you told me to be happy… why can't I, then? Why can't I? _

"Crea?"

Another shudder worked it's way through her body. _Venn._ Her legs almost gave out at the sound of his voice. Part of her was terrified of him—terrified of what she could do to him, what the Mage had used him for, and… just about everything else. And that feeling outweighed everything else trying to break free from inside her.

With a cool face, she looked at him over her shoulder. "Venn," she greeted without any real conviction in her voice.

Surprisingly, she recognized anger in Venn's eyes. Through the years she had known him, Crea had seen Venn angry before. But not like this. This anger smoldered in his eyes, hot and scalding.

Looking at him, she was almost intimidated. Almost. But as she had tried to distance herself emotionally from Venn, she had learned to dull all her reactions from him.

"Why—" Venn shook his head, debating with himself how he would approach the blonde woman before him. "I want to… understand you, Crea."

"Understand?" she repeated.

"Damnit," he cursed and almost whirled around, except that he was driven by his need to know, his need to understand her, his need to show her his love. "Crea, what's wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me?" Dread raised in her breasts. Had he started to suspect something? She had never wanted that dirtiness to touch him, ever.

It would have been best if she had left Venn's tribe the minute she had awakened that morning all those years ago. But she had been so terrified of being alone that she hadn't dared leave. But she had tried to protect her friend, her Venn, from herself.

"I don't… why him, Crea?" When Crea simply stared at him, Venn elaborated, "Jak Mar. You were talking to him. You were smiling at him. You… you were normal with him… what's he got that I don't?"

"Venn—"

"Crea, I want… _shit_… Crea, I love—" he admitted softly as he reached out for her.

Just the sight of his hand, powerful and big and reaching, flashed her to when the Mage had clamped his hands over her mouth… only he had been Venn. He had Venn's face on. And for a split second, she was once against that frightened little girl whose best friend's face had been used to destroy her.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, sounding angry and hurt all at once. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, her eyes pinching with tears.

For a moment, Venn looked like he might just grab her anyway. Crea thought she would break if he did. Shatter into a tiny million at his feet.

But then, on a burning oath, he dropped his hand and the sound of it slapping against his thigh caused her to winch. _I never meant to hurt you, Venn… how can I tell you?_ The answer was simple… she couldn't.

"I just…" Venn looked like he wanted to hit something. Crea almost wished he would. "You're pissing me off, Crea. Why can't you tell me, but you can tell him? We're friends, aren't we?"

Crea said nothing, just watched him through dark, unreadable eyes. Venn cursed again, turning and striding away. His trench coat flapped out behind him like raven's wings…

_Ravens are the symbol of death… _

Shaking, she dropped to her knees, her arms locked securely around herself. Crea sank into the very corners of her mind, where she looked for the young girl she had once been. The young girl who could love Venn like he deserved.

She shook because she found nothing of that girl.

--&--

Cyren was dreaming.

He had had dreams before. Dreams of fame and glory. Dreams of his home back in the tiny village outside Sage-Harmona. As of late, his dreams had been of Aithne. Heat filled dreams, with sticky flesh and throaty moans.

But he had never dreamed of _them_ before.

Them. His family. His real one. His mother-queen and father-king. His aunt who smelled like roses and sunshine. The platinum-haired, violet-eyed woman who had danced him around his room on his fourth birthday.

Roid's admittance to his real heritage had seemed to open a floodgate in Cyren's mind. Image after image flashed, memories buried deep and dark in his mind.

_His mother had been beautiful, if tired. She loved to stroke his blindingly blonde head, cooing a song from a time long passed._

_His father had been strong, and tired. He would come into Cyren's room late at night, before he turned in for bed, and talk to him of Cyren's future._

_And his aunt… his beautiful, laughing aunt. He didn't see much of her, but Rosalyn… she had shone with happiness and joy and he remembered quaking with glee at the mere sight of her._

No wonder Roid had loved her…

_Zen-Fai had been there as well… a silent shadow beside his father, or mother. Once, Cyren had fallen in the gardens and cut his knee bad. He had sat on the stone pavement whimpering when the general had knelt beside him, wordlessly bandaging his wounds. Cyren had stared up at the much taller man with awe-inspired hero-worship._

_The aging man had looked down at him and told him if he was to be the next king he would need to learn how to be stronger, tougher, braver. Zen-Fai told him not to cry, never to look back, and to be proud of his blood._

_Cyren remembered clinging to Zen-Fai as they escaped Hirmoyarbeshi in Sage-Harmona. _

He sat up, his tears cooling on his cheeks. Cyren rubbed at them, fiercely. He pushed away his covers, tiptoeing passed Annityn, who he bunked with. Aithne was also supposed to be bunking wtih him, but she had gone out just before he fell asleep. He was aware of Annityn's eyes on his back, but he heard her return back to her sleeping position.

But he wasn't sure if Annityn even slept.

Outside, in the cool air of the caves Concilio had been carved into, he pressed his palms to his temples, trying to dispel the tried grief that welled in his chest. A mother and a father he didn't remember, an aunt whose smell he could still inhale…

_Yoshimoro, that's who I am. _

For the first time, though, Cyren felt an odd tingle of pride with that idea. Because now he knew the people who he had once shared his blood with… and he felt pride that he had their blood, their proud, brave blood flowing through his veins.

And, finally, in that moment, Cyren's journey into manhood was complete. For in that moment, staring down at his hands—Yoshimoro hands—he knew what he had to do. He knew, in the name of a kind mother and a strong father and a loving aunt, he would lead his people.

In Zen-Fai's name he would free Sage-Harmona, he would free them from the imprisonment of Hirmoyarbeshi and then he would become their king, if they would have him. He swore on his life that he would be a kind, just ruler.

_Zen-Fai… he had a son, a family. I wonder… if I'll meet him? What will I say to the man whose father I took away? How will I pay that debt?_

A flash of color to his right caused Cyren to turn his head. Aithne stood a few feet away from him, staring off into the vast void of the darkness.

_Aithne… _

Suddenly, Cyren was hit with the knowledge of all that he was giving up. Shuddering, struggling with that knowledge, he walked towards her.

Tears were running down Aithne's face. But they weren't the angry tears he was so used to seeing on her. They were big, pearl-sized tears that fell down the sides of her cheeks. She shook with grief.

Over him, he knew.

Without a word, Cyren walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, burying his face into the side of her hair. Aithne stiffened for a moment and then, on a small whimper, she leaned into him.

"I'm so sorry," he told her and they both knew why he was sorry. They both knew what would come at the end of their journey.

A parting.

She turned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his chest. Cyren pressed kisses to the top of her head, feeling his world shatter and attempt to rebuild itself. And, even if he managed to rebuild those shattered fragments of his heart… it would never be the same again.

For so long now, Aithne had been by his side and now… and soon he would be completely alone.

"Aithne, I—we… I don't know what to do, Aithne. We'll find a way to be together. We'll make it work. It _won't_ end like this, Aithne. It won't."

"Cyren. Cyren. Cyren." Aithne looked up at him, cupping his face with her hands, thumb stroking his cheek. "No. We… it wasn't meant to be, Cyren. Sage-Harmona will need you and I… I need to help Haven City, need to be with my mother."

He looked into her eyes, almost jolting as the realization hit. Somewhere along the lines, Aithne had grown up too. Perhaps she would always hate Jak—never be able to accept him as her father—but he sensed her sudden wisdom in the way of life. Aithne, the angry, spiteful girl was gone, replaced by a frustrated and weary woman.

They kissed, coming together because their bodies were magnetically pulled that way. Cyren parted Aithne's lips with his tongue, seeking entrance to her searing warmth. He held her shuddering body against his, stroking her sides, trying to memorize her feel and taste and texture.

_If this is all we have, Aithne… then I want to make it last… _

"I love you, Aithne. I've loved you since… since the day we met, when we were eight. I'll always love you. Always," Cyren swore, holding her taunt against him.

She choked on a sob because king's needed heirs. Kings needed heirs. "I love you, Cyren. I love you. Don't let me fuck this up. I'm so broken, Cyren. I'll never love Jak, I'll never accept Jak, I'll never understand my mother… but I love you. It's always been there… always. I wish… oh… I wish I had realized sooner."

Cyren gave her a watery smile.

When they kissed again, Aithne's tears soaked them both as they flowed down between their molding bodies.

--&--

Maelia had considered sleeping on the floor. But the floor was a made of stone and the linens of the cot looked inviting to a girl who hadn't seen an actual bed in weeks.

So she settled herself on the bed, as far from Ryu as she could get.

But Ryu was a wriggler in bed. _Who knew?_ Within fifteen minutes, Ryu had spooned her body against his, pressing her down into the makeshift mattress. Maelia wasn't sure how she felt, but it left a nice, odd tingle in her stomach.

"Mmm… Maelia…" Ryu mumbled in his sleep, hooking a leg around her waist, pressing their bodies more fully together. She felt his lips moving against the skin on the back of her neck and almost melted into a puddle of warmth.

His hand moved to press against her stomach. Maelia's body went taut with hormones. _Just what is he doing to me… damnit, he's sleeping! _

"Maelia? Where are we?" he asked softly, his hot breathing fanning her skin.

She almost jolted. God! He was awake! That meant… he put his hand on her stomach. On purpose. She almost purred with the knowledge. Such a strange, fulfilling feeling… knowing he was willing to hold her like that.

"Concilio, the Metal Head City," Maelia answered, her breath husky and raspy.

"Metal Head…!" Ryu moved to sit up. Maelia grabbed the arms he had wrapped around her and kept him beside her. Partly because she didn't want him to cause a panic and partly because… _this feels so good… _

"It's alright. Roid… has made some kind of truce with them. We're all alright." She turned to face him, ignoring the fact that their lips were mere inches apart. She blocked the memory of his lips rushing against hers, licking and owning her mouth.

"Maelia…" he sighed and cupped her face, a strange look coming across his features. Beneath him, she gave a shudder. This wasn't helping with her lust issue.

"Ryu… what—?" She was cut off abruptly as Ryu pressed his mouth against hers.

It was a gentle kiss, a sweet kiss. Not like the one they had shared before, filled with heat and frustration, all the pent up rage and emotion of two hormonally driven teenagers.

This one made Maelia melt. She sighed against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck, arching her back up. Ryu kept the kiss slow and sensual, working his way across her mouth, and then across her face.

When he finally broke away, Maelia was near tears. They misted her vision. "Ryu…" she managed on a weak, throaty sigh.

"I love you," Ryu said into the darkness.

Something inside her snapped. Maelia felt the first tear drop down her face, and then the torrent started. She cried into his chest and Ryu sat them both up, stroking her trembling back as she soaked his shirt.

Finally, gasping, she managed to raise her tear-caked eyes to look at him. "Don't say things you don't mean," she warned, hiccupping, pressing her fingers against her mouth to stop the sound of her sobs.

Gently, he cupped her face again, looking into her eyes, willing her to see the truth. "Do I look like I'm lying to you?" he demanded not unkindly. Her body was slack against his, the only thing keeping her in an upright position were the arms he had locked securely around her back.

"Ry—Ryu… I can't… _can't_ believe it." Her breath was hissing out, shock and disbelief causing her chest to heave. She looked at him like he was suddenly holding her entire world in his hands.

"All your life, Mae, you've wanted love, haven't you?" he pressed, tightening his hold. "And no one's ever given it to you. Not fully. Well, here it is, Mae-Mae. I'm going to love you until the day you die and there's nothing that's gonna change it."

"Oh, Ryu… I—you—you can't mean that!"

He kissed her again, swallowing her fears and doubts with a tenderness that nearly had her weeping once more. She curled her hands against his chest, holding him to her as she reveled in the feeling of being completely, and utterly, loved.

"Maelia, I've loved you all my life." He smirked at her, running his thumb over her swollen lips. "Pissed me off as hell 'cause you were such a brat… but I have, Maelia. I wish I could have told you earlier… and stopped some of that hurt you always felt."

"Oh Ryu…" she breathed, touching the back of his neck. "I—I guess I've always loved you, too. I mean, I know I was attracted to you… but… I never thought about love before a few years ago. An—and I do. Love you, I mean."

"Attracted, huh?" Ryu grinned down at her, and Maelia's stomach gave a low hum of pleasure at the feral look in his eyes. "I thought you said 'you had better'?"

"I was lying, duh," Maelia retorted, tilting her chin. "You had gone into the guilty I-can't-believe-I-was-considering-doing-a-kid mode. I wasn't about to admit that was the best make-out secession I ever had."

"I've haven't considered you a kid for quite a number of years now…" Ryu pointed out, his eyes drifting down to her generous swell of breasts. "But sometimes you act like a spoiled brat."

"Well, sometimes you act like a insensitive jerk."

"Guess that makes us even… and I'm certainly not in the mind frame that you're a kid _now_." Still grinning, he lowered them back down onto the bed.

"Oh…" Maelia sighed, arching slightly, her eyes closing.

"Have you ever done this before?" Ryu asked gently, hooking his thumbs under the first set of straps of Maelia's tank tops. Her hoodie was somewhere in the darkness… but he didn't care right now.

"No," Maelia answered, opening one of her eyes. "The closest I ever came to… was with you."

His white teeth flashed again. "Good."

"Well, have you?"

"I think for the sake of my life I'd better not answer."

"Ryu!"

His lips swallowed her indignant cry as he settled his body on top of hers. Maelia wiggled her hips a little and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Alright, alright. I'll forget you said that," she said when they broke.

"When I'm through with you, you'll have forgotten a lot of things," Ryu promised her and Maelia wiggled an eyebrow at him.

"So sure of yourself, are you?"

"Well, I have had some practice…"

"_Ryu_!"

But then everything was forgotten as Ryu's hands slid under her shirt. Maelia melted against him and opened herself completely to him.

As Ryu set out to show Maelia all the love she had been denied her entire life, he swore that he was going to end Sage-Harmona's tyrant hand. For the first time, he wanted to fight. Because fighting meant protecting Maelia and he wanted to protect her from feeling more hurt.

And when he ended this war, he swore softly as he kissed Maelia once more, he was going to take her home and love her till the end of his days.

--&--

The Holy City… it was so close.

Nyx sat down in the desert sands, a dark cloak over her body. Her eyes were locked on the towers of the Holy City as it glowed in the distance. Her knees were bunched up to her chest and her eyes were carefully guarded.

They had been here for nearly two days now, she and her spies. But with Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi barracking the city it was nearly impossible to get in.

Her mind drifted to her daughter… _oh, Merasaki… are you frightened without me? Are you safe?_ And her gut clenched as Nik followed shortly after. What could she say to him? What could be said? They had left things on such bad terms…

She forced her eyes closed. There was nothing she could do about that. At least, not now. _Maybe… when I get back… I'll say something. I'll apologize, even. I'll try to fix things. I promise, Nik. For us. _

Suddenly, she was standing. Her eyes stilled locked on the silhouetted form of her city. One of her spies, one who was younger than her in years, but not experience, approached her. "Sir?" he asked.

"I'm going into the Holy City. It's not going to be easy. But I have to get in. If you don't want to risk it, I don't blame you. Stay here and wait for an opening." As she turned and tugged her cloaked tighter around her shoulders. She heard the footfalls of all her spies, but didn't dare look back at them.

It was surprisingly easy to get into the Holy City. They snuck right by the enemy encampment, without a fuss or worry. Nyx felt suspicion bubble on her brow. _Sage-Harmona is a formidable fighting force. They should have noticed us._

But she didn't question her good luck as they snuck into the Holy City, slipping into the large gates there. Nyx's body was taunt with fear and anxiety and she wouldn't relax until she saw her little girl, and her husband—_Nik is still my husband!_—safe and well.

_And Sala… and Gareth… I hope they're alright! _

Her feet clicked against the familiar feeling of the Holy City's gravel roads. She inhaled deeply, welcoming the scent of her beloved city. Her fingers clutched one another as she was filled with a sense of longing and joy.

What she didn't know was that no more than four miles away, Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi stood beside his leading general, smirking slightly as they watched Nyx and her spies slip into the city.

"Sir?" his general questioned softly, eyes narrowed slightly. "Shouldn't we… kill them?"

"No," Hirmoyarbeshi answered and took a sip from the alcohol flask in his hand. "You're young… but these people are all going to die. Better they die together than alone." His smile flashed, hard silver in the darkness. "I will at least give them that."

Turning, he returned to his camp.

* * *

**notes:** I'll admit it right here. I _planned_ on having Maelia die in this chapter. But you know, sometimes, these characters of mine bitch-slap a few times and convince to let them live. Maelia had yet to get into Ryu's pants so…

**reviews**

**Xazz:** yeah, needs to work on a few things, including document manager and their review system. But, you know, whatever. The nephew thing was a twist I was kinda sitting and refused to even _hint_ about

**GundamWingFanatic90:** I totally didn't kill Maelia. I did against my better judgment… and Ryu and Maelia tend to go around circles because they can't admit they have the hots for each other XD (not so much anymore). And you just make happy every time you mention art. Glee!

**Helenila:** you got your wish, see?

**ChatterBox101:** hey, no problem. School? I totally get that. As for Jak and Aithne, yeah. You notice that they're so much a like, but Jak's duty and Aithne's rage keep them from realizing it. I guess this story is more a family epic than anything.

**Specter Von Baren:** I wish I could've killed Maelia off, but something wouldn't let me, which is weird because I _never_ have any problem killing characters off…

**jaklover123:** troubles are what make the world go around. :P Sad, isn't it? But why else does _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ and the _Circe du Freak_ books sell well?

**Chantz:** I'm just glad I convinced you to sign in a review. 'Tis an honor! Looking back at the prequel to this, I'm surprised to see how badly this expanded itself. Not that I'm not pleased with the outcome, but Jak IV was intended to be a small romp featuring only Keira's pregnancy, the birth of Aithne, and Haven City's diplomatic interactions with the Holy City. But obvious, that changed quite a bit. XD Jak and Aithne are a dynamic that I'm really pleased with, even if no one else is. Jak isn't a liar, so he just won't tell the truth. Aithne is every inch Jak's daughter so she resents much like he did in Jak II. In fact, Aithne's kinda like the female version of the Jak presented in Jak II. Which is way they don't—and possibly won't—get along.

**Teh Kitsune:** actually, you pretty much nailed Roid. The only person he truly cares about is Rosalyn. He's protectiveness of Cyren stems from his love for Rosalyn. If it weren't for her, chances are he would be living the life of a recluse somewhere. And, of course, he protects those around Cyren simply because it's the only way to ensure Cyren's safety. That's why I love him. Roid makes no apology for who he is, what he does, or what he can't do. Of course, you'll see Roid's outlook on his group change, but at his core Roid will be the character who changes the least. His story has already been said and done and he has already come to terms with who he is. Anyway, I kinda put Jak and Crea in there at the last moment. They both need some loving and since Jak and Crea have been both knocked around by fate I figured they would rely on each. And the sad truth is Jak and Aithne have some hurdles that they may never be able to jump over. We'll just have to wait and see. And finally, Cyren's character will come full circle. For a while he's just been Aithne's love interest, a background character almost. But he has a destiny that transcends Aithne's. He's the heir to the enemy city, he has been lied to all his life, and his entire family has been killed in a coup. Cyren has to grow up now, and grow up fast. And Aithne's only just beginning to accept her feelings for him and Cyren's heir apparent title is going to cause some problems. We also need to learn a few more things about Zen-Fai before this is over, and trust we'll find out all about what happened that night. Who survived and _who_ Zen-Fai's son is. And yes, I love Maelia and Ryu. I thought it would just be too ironic if Torn and Daxter's children got together. XD And as you can see, Maelia's fine and Ryu's finally stopped beating around the bushing. Now all they have to do is deal with their families…


	19. Mae Culpa

**Disclaimer:** I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun

**Author's Notes:** there are no words. Almost three months late, I know. All I'll say is A.P. Economics, a very unreliable Internet connection, and a lack of time, patience and enthusiasm keep this from happening. Lucky though, with December gone and everything mostly done on my side, things will _finally_ start moving.

Still have A.P. Economics though… _hate_ it

**warnings:** none

* * *

** Act XIX: Mae Culpa **

"Daxter?" Tess asked softly, shivering in her silk nightdress.

Her husband was already lying down on the bed they shared. But she knew he wasn't sleeping. Daxter hardly ever slept anymore. She lay awake beside him, feeling his heavy breathing and silent, suffocating thoughts.

She seated herself beside her husband, reaching a pale hand out to touch his arm. Daxter shifted, turning in the darkness to face her. Moonlight flirted across the room through their open balcony doors, the wind billowing just slightly.

In the silvery light Tess could almost see the man she married in this shell. She was sure that there was something of the old Daxter in this new one, he was just buried so deep in his chest that it was nearly impossible to see.

And, in her foolishness, she had thought time would heal those wounds. She allowed herself to take a passive role in Daxter's deteriorating emotions. Even when she had seen his inability to see Maelia as his daughter, she had done nothing. She thought that eventually Daxter would realize that Lee was dead but he still had a daughter that yearned for his affection.

When that hadn't happened Tess had been so afraid of destroying the fragile bonds that held her family together she hadn't done anything.

Now her daughter could be dead and her husband… was treating it as if it was nothing.

"Tess?" Daxter asked. He sat up fully, the blanket bunching at his hips.

Tears filmed her eyes as he looked down at her. They slid down her cheeks, slashing across her pale skin. Her shoulders trembled almost jerkily. The only sound of her room was her rough breathing.

"Maelia… Daxter, how can you do this to her?" she demanded softly.

Daxter shook his head. "Tess, I don't know what—"

"Don't treat her like she's nothing," she cut in harshly, her voice raw and hoarse, as if she has been screaming. Tess thought maybe she had been screaming ever since Lee died, just silently.

"I'm not! I don't!" Daxter took her by her shoulders, shaking gently. There was another hint of the man he had been, but Tess was so afraid now that he was buried too deep to ever be found again.

"She's not _Lee_, Daxter," she said again and had his hands sliding from her shoulders. "You need to stop treating her like… she's… she's some kind of replacement that's disappointed you."

"I don't think like that," Daxter protested numbly, his eyes growing blind. "I _don't_."

They both knew he was lying. Tess curled into herself, biting her lips. "In the beginning I thought maybe… if I let you alone then you would… work yourself out eventually. That you would realize you still had a living, _breathing_ daughter desperately needing your love."

Those liquid brown eyes that she for so long dreamed of seeing her husband in looked away, into the darkness. Tess didn't even begin to hope for him anymore.

"She might be _dead_, Daxter. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" She pressed a hand to her mouth to halt the escape of a choked sob. "When I… when I realized that you… weren't going to fix yourself I didn't want to destroy that fragile bond we had built. That's my fault. I should have _said_ something."

"Tess…"

She reached out and closed her hands over his shoulders, shaking him. Tears flowed freely from her eyes now and she looked at him, hard. "Please, Daxter. I know—I know that on some level you _have_ to love her. When will you let Lee go? How long do you have to carry his absence around?"

Unable to stand him anymore, Tess threw herself from the bed and strode to the balcony. She was aware of Daxter's eyes burning hot coals into her back. Her body rocked with spasms as she threw open the balcony doors.

Quickly, more in control now, she whispered, "Lee's dead, Daxter. He died. It hurts, I know. It hurts me too. But we have a daughter. A daughter who's tried all her life to be the one thing you want. And she's never been able to. Do you know what that feels like for her? Her own father can't love her."

Whatever Daxter was going to say to that, however, was lost as Tess's eyes slid onto the ground of the Holy City. She saw the shadows slipping quietly across the roads, their capes flapping against their backs.

An image of Sala of Rye, being punished and nearly killed, flashed in her mind. _More assassins?_ She thought dizzily. She walked passed Daxter, eyes blind and slick with fear. Her fingers closed over the doorknob.

"Tess?" Daxter asked in a choked voice.

Her blue eyes were wide in her face as she faced him. "We need to find Nik… someone's in the Holy City. Someone we don't know."

--&--

Cyren walked nervously behind Roid, trying hard not to shuffle from one foot to the other. How he wished Aithne was here with him. But Kiff Fire had asked for his presence and his alone.

What could he do but abide?

"Why does she want to talk to me?" he asked the Metal Head striding in front of him. He tried hard not to let his voice tremble like he wanted it to. He didn't imagine that a king's voice trembled often.

"She has chosen to support you and your claim to the Sage-Harmona throne," Roid answered, glancing at him over his scaly shoulder. "Many of the Metal Head people will not agree to this. They will voice protests and Kiff will have to butt heads against the will of her own people."

"So… she's doing this for me? Why?"

"No. Not for you, Cyren. Kiff cares little for humans. But… there is potential in siding with you. If you became ruler of Sage-Harmona, you will owe a debt to Kiff. She will use that to garner freedom for her people." Roid's voice was even and cool. "Kiff has always had a knack for politics."

He tightened his hands into fists. "I would have done that anyway. I don't… I don't… think its right, the way they treat Metal Heads. I think it's all wrong."

A small, nearly unnoticeable smile touched Roid's lips. "And she will see that in your eyes, Cyren. That is why you will be a fine ruler. You are honest and you are pure. You are very much like—"

"Rosalyn?" Cyren supplied and frowned lightly at Roid's silence. "I remember her, a little. Just smells and smiles. She used to dance me around my room, I think. She had violet eyes."

"Yes. Rosalyn was… a unique woman. She smiled more than anyone else I know and she was simply… and utterly… content." Roid's voice held almost a hint of wistfulness in it. But it was carefully controlled and hidden by his hard personality.

"You… must have loved her very much," Cyren surmised tentatively, not sure how far Roid would let him go.

"Yes. I did."

"Will you… not now, of course… but one day, will you tell me about her? I'd like to know. She's my family." Cyren lowered his head slightly, taking a small brief.

"If that is what you wish, Cyren, then I will speak to you of Rosalyn. When we have the time," Roid answered, not sounding nearly as enraged as Cyren had imagined.

"I'd like that," Cyren managed and lifted his head once more. "If Rosalyn was… was… your mate, does that mean we're like family? You and me, Roid? Family through Rosalyn?"

There was a long pause from Roid, as if he was seriously considering it. "I have never thought of it like that. Perhaps, we are. It hardly matters. Family or no, I will protect you until the day when you are safe from harm."

"Because you promised Rosalyn?"

"Yes."

Without saying another word, Cyren and Roid stepped into what he supposed was Kiff Fire's war room. It wasn't much different from the caves that Cyren had seen in the Metal Head City.

But even so, there was an air of power and structure here. Cyren felt it. It pulsated through the air, skimming both their skins—his smooth and fleshy, Roid's dark and scaly—and hovering above their heads.

In the middle of it, seated on her hunches, was Kiff Fire. Her scaly skin rippled with a combination of irritation and the awkwardness of her body. Cyren felt his skin ripple with fear but resisted his urge to allow Roid to stand in front of him.

That was wrong. And he knew it. If he had any hope of being the ruler of Sage-Harmona, he had to be strong. Show no fear in the face of anyone. Very vaguely he remembered his father—his real one, the ruler of Sage-Harmona, the Yoshimoro through marriage. He had looked tired, but at the same time Cyren remembered him as impossibly strong.

Strong. That was what he needed to be.

Stiffening his shoulders, he stood directly in front of Kiff Fire, refusing to allow his fear to show. He could feel his heart quiver with it, but his eyes remained passive and emotionless.

Roid made a small sound of approval beside him. Cyren managed a nod, but only a small one, afraid that too much movement would cause his mask of cool indifference to crack.

Kiff Fire came down, inspecting Cyren as one would meat on a rack. She circled him, meeting Roid's eyes every so often. He didn't dare try to read what was in them. After all, Roid had said that Kiff Fire would support him in his claim to the Sage-Harmona throne… but that could easily be changed.

"So… you're that Yoshimoro boy," Kiff Fire said, her body shaking with her raspy, husky voice. "Roid seemed to get in his mind that you're worthy of Metal Head support. Are you?"

_Speak, Cyren! C'mon, damnit!_ "Kiff Fire, I can't claim to have ever had any… fond thoughts of your kind," he answered as his raised his eyes steadily to hers. "But in order for the future to be saved and allowed to continue down a peaceful path, certain prejudices must be dropped. Tolerance must be called upon. No matter what happened between your kind and mine in the past, well, it's in the _past_ now. We must look toward the future, a clean future."

"Well spoken," Kiff Fire mumbled and Cyren allowed himself to relax an inch. "Roid, you've done well. I don't, and I _won't_, trust this boy but if you are willing to put your credence behind him I am willing to give him some support."

"If I had to stand beside anyone, Kiff," Roid returned gently, not sounding harsh or bitter at all. He was merely stating facts. "Then it would Cyren. Not just because of what I have promised, though that factors largely, but because Cyren, I believe, is our hope for the future."

Blinking in surprise, he jerked his head to look at Roid. The Metal Head focused his dark eyes on Cyren's own and the young man saw the truth there. And it was an oddly warming fact. Roid believed in Cyren.

"My people… many of them… do not support this. And will never support this." Kiff Fire returned to her position at the head of the room, facing them both. "I will give you what little support I can. Epsi Wind and I… will go with you to the Holy City, with what men we can rally."

"Is that wise?" Roid put in suddenly, narrowing his eyes at the Metal Head leader. "Both you and Epsi leaving?"

"My people are self sufficient enough to work without me for a time," Kiff answered without flinching. "And I will only take a small number of warriors with me. I cannot ask my people to fight for a cause they don't believe in, not even for you."

"I know. I wouldn't even ask you to help me if we didn't so desperately need it," Cyren answered, resisting the urge to bow deeply. Something told him that his actions would not be appreciated.

"Somehow, I sense that," Kiff answered.

But he felt like he had to do _something_, after all that Kiff Fire was giving up. All that she was risking by helping him. He stiffened his back and looked the large, bulky Metal Head straight in her eyes.

"I swear to you, Kiff Fire, that if I live through this I will do everything in my power to give your people the respect they deserve. If this war shows us anything, it shows us that people do things that they might not like if their leaders order them to do so," Cyren told her in a hot fervor, trying to enforce all his opinions and feelings into this one statement. He wanted her to understand him. Not only because she was his future ally, but because she was a fellow ruler.

Kiff locked eyes with him, staring down at him from beneath her impressive bulk. Suddenly, she broke the contact and looked toward Roid. There was a very light smile in her eyes. "I like this boy, Roid. Cyren, I see that you fight with a bow staff."

"Hm?" Instantly, his fingers went to wrap around the lean, wooden pole strapped to his back. "Oh. Yes. My… my…" He trailed off, not sure what to say. What exactly was Zen-Fai, now that the truth was out? "My father taught me how to use it."

"I think I might have a better weapon for you." When Cyren's eyes widened, she held up a hand. "I understand. This staff must have sentimental value for you, being that it was given to you by your father. I am by no means suggesting that you throw it away. However, I might have a better weapon for you to fight with."

He freed the bow staff, caressing its sharp edges, looking at his reflection in the metal. "You do?"

"Yes. It may seem impossible to you, but once the Metal Heads lacked their talons and claws and strength. They were a frail race once, vulnerable and exposed to a number of enemies." She lifted herself from her seat and walked toward the wall. "Our first, and most noble ruler, honed his body in the human way of fighting to better protect his people. He used a weapon similar to yours."

"He used a bow staff?"

"Something similar to your bow staff." Kiff Fire's massive hands closed over a thick wooden staff. She pulled it from its position on the wall. "Neryc, our first king, used this staff to battle his enemies."

It was an exquisite weapon, designed and created with death in mind. It was nearly a foot taller than Cyren himself. It was made of a deep, deep strong mahogany that looked magicked to never age. The edges were sharp, but shaped in circles, rounded and bright silver.

Touching, holding the thick wood in his hands, Cyren almost felt the years of its use. It had killed many before, and would aid him in killing many again, if the need should arise for such a task.

And he knew that chances were it would be.

"Kiff Fire… I don't—I don't think it's even possible to show you my gratitude for this." He lifted the bow staff into the air, swinging it lightly. "This will help me. I feel… I feel _it_."

Those dark, Metal Head eyes never left his. Kiff Fire uncurled a talon at him. "Cyren, I will hold you to that promise. When this war is over, I will look to gain freedom for my people. And I'll look to you for support."

Cyren reached out and clasped his hand on Kiff Fire's talon, the strength in his grip surprising them both. "And you'll have it," he swore.

From his position in the back of the room, Roid smiled at them both.

--&--

The Metal Heads released Jak Mar from his prison cell in the Metal Head City, but he was told by Epsi Wind in no questionable terms that he was not to leave the area where his allies were being kept.

Neither Epsi, nor Kiff Fire, had any say over how the Metal Head people treated him. Both he and Kiff Fire had managed to keep it very quiet that Jak Mar was visiting the city, but word was seeping out and the tension was clear.

The only reason the Metal Heads hadn't moved against Jak, Epsi had explained, was because Kiff Fire had made no move against him. But as past grievous were remembered, that would not hold long.

Luckily, Jak had shot back, they were leaving.

Jak wasn't sure how he felt, walking in the deep caves of his former—_current, current_—enemies. But he felt slightly ill with the whole idea and couldn't wait until the sun was bathing his face again.

As soon as he was free, he found his way to Keira, who was still pale and unmoving, only now looking even paler due to the darkened cave in which she rested. For a while he was content to hold her, stroking her teal hair from her face.

She was cold. That was the only thing he managed to think of as he clasped her still, limp body to his. Keira's head lulled back and he rocked them both, making promises and incoherent sentences against her skin.

It wouldn't do any good, he knew. But if he held her against him he could feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest and it was, on some level, comforting. Even if she couldn't respond, even if she couldn't answer his pleas, feeling the rhythmic pulse of her heart was, for now, enough.

Aithne came in sometime while Jak was rocking Keira. She glanced at him, narrowed her eyes, and left. Jak made apologizes to Keira and followed his daughter out.

"Aithne," he called as he caught up to her.

Her blazing eyes snapped up at his. She bared her teeth. "I don't want to deal with you, _Jak_," she spat out, clenching her fists. Jak almost wished she'd take a swing at him. That raw anger he could understand.

But there was something so pained in Aithne's eyes, just underneath all the rage and bitterness. He couldn't imagine what his coming back meant, what it would change in her life. And, in a selfish way, he didn't want to know.

Seventeen years. Seventeen years. That was how much time he had lost with her, with Keira. For all he knew Keira was remarried, Aithne had half siblings, and they had gotten on with their life thinking Jak was dead.

It made him so mad. But he couldn't be mad at Aithne. Not Aithne. She was just an innocent victim in this. Just as he was a pawn.

He opened his mouth with no idea what he wanted to say to her. Apologizes clogged on his tongue. What did he need to apologize for? Looking into her eyes, there was no doubt Jak owed his daughter something. But what?

"You should hit me," he said suddenly, his voice surprising them both.

"What!?"

"It'll make you feel better," he added. "I know a bit about violence. Whenever I'm pissed off I like to hit things. Makes me feel better. If you want to hit me, go ahead. I won't stop you. I won't even struggle."

"I'm nothing like you," she snapped, swinging her arms into the air. None of them landed a hit on him. "Do you hear? All my life they've said that. I'm Jak Mar's _daughter_. I don't think so. I'm Keira _Hagai_'s daughter. Jak Mar died before he could even matter to me. You're nothing. You left us, you bastard."

"Aithne, you don't—"

"Your reasons don't matter!" she thundered at him, her eyes burning hot into his. "What, do you think saying 'I had to go out and play the hero' will change what you did? Don't you think _she_ had the right to know about it? About the fact that you weren't dead, you asshole. She _cried_ over you. She spilt salt onto the earth, thinking it had consumed your body. What a waste."

Anger swarmed through him and he was gripping her shoulders suddenly, shaking her. "Do you think I _wanted_ to leave you two? You weren't even born, yet! I wanted to see you grow up! I never wanted to leave Keira. I love her."

She jammed an elbow into his stomach, pushing him away. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters now. You're not a part of my life, _Jak_. You never were. And you never will be. I _won't_ let you ruin my life like you ruined hers."

With one last scalding look in his direction, Jak watched his daughter storm off. His fingers itched to comfort her, as only a father could, but he held himself back. She had said she wanted nothing to do with him.

He curled his fingers into his palms, making fists that his body was all too familiar with. The silvery glow on his palm was cool to the touch.

_Damnit all,_ he thought viciously.

--&--

Nyx had a vision of what her homecoming would be like. There would be some kind greeting. Gareth and Sala mostly. Lots of sloppy kisses. That from Merasaki. And a hostile or disappointed look. That would be from Nik.

But nothing could have possibly prepared her for what did greet her.

She was nearly attacked by Torn of Haven City, and his wife Ashelin Praxis. Only the backup of her fellow spies had allowed her to gain enough air to shout that she was the Holy City's head spy.

And luckily, Torn and Ashelin knew about her from—Nik, she supposed. The pair were a deadly match and she had no doubt they would have broken a number of bones if they hadn't known who she was.

As soon as she was freed from Torn's strangle hold on her windpipe, she had demanded to see Gareth and Sala. She had some information about Sage-Harmona that needed to be passed on immediately.

They didn't take her to Sala and Gareth's room, or even their offices. They took her to the medical bay. At first, Nyx had been confused with a familiar feeling of dread welling deep in her stomach.

When she had finally seen Sala, unconscious and unmoving in the medical ward she nearly passed out from fear and anger. Her fellow spies had twittered beside her nervously, lost now that their commander was indisposed.

While Torn explained to her what transpired during her absence, Ashelin had gone to fetch Nik. Nyx nearly told her not to bother since she didn't think she could handle Nik right now. But she didn't stop the redheaded woman.

If Sala and Gareth were no longer able to lead the city that would make Nik the leader… and she had to answer to him. If not on a personal level, then on a professional one.

But she wanted him to hold her so badly.

"From what I know, Gareth went looking for Donna-Rune to seek a cure for Lady Sala," Torn explained in his gruff voice. Nyx found it oddly soothing. Somehow she knew that no matter how terrible the truth, it would be the _truth_. There would be no sugar coating, no white lies. Just the plain, harsh truth.

Right now, that was what she needed.

"Donna-Rune… Nik's brother is from there…" she murmured absently. Torn shrugged, hardly seeing it as anything of importance. And it really wasn't. But in her foggy, terror-induced mind that was a fact she managed to latch onto.

The clip of Ashelin's boots against the ground alerted Nyx to the woman's return. But she felt rather than heard Nik enter the room. He radiated tension and heat. She didn't face him, not yet, but she allowed her body to absorb the feeling of being near him.

And the irony of the fact that their roles were now reversed.

"She's been like this since I left?" Nyx managed to ask, keeping her voice level and cool.

"Yes. She was poisoned," Nik informed her in a clipped tone that hurt her more than any sword could. "Her condition hasn't started to deteriorate yet, but she's been comatose ever since you left."

Without saying anything else, she reached out and covered Sala's hand. _I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. But I'm here now. And I won't leave. _

"Is there… is she going to be alright?"

"If Gareth finds Venn, then there's a high probability that she can be saved," Nik answered shortly. "C'mon, you've seen this disease before."

Even if she had, it didn't make the situation anything less than what it was. "Will Venn be at Donna-Rune? Do you think he will be there?"

"I don't know. No way to tell what Sage-Harmona has been doing with the desert tribes," Nik returned, stepping an inch closer. "They're notorious for their prejudice toward them. Who knows?"

"Nik." She turned to face him, looking into his eyes, searching for all the promises that had been there before. But they weren't there. His dark eyes were closed off to her in a way they had never been before. "Nik, I—"

"Do you want me to wake up Merasaki? I think she'd want to see you."

She felt the distance. Felt the coldness between them. It was a wonder she didn't freeze from it. Torn and Ashelin watched the exchange with silent eyes.

Oh, there was so much to say to him. So much she needed to tell him about. And she wanted to say it to him. She wanted to pour her heart open, damning anyone else who might be listening. She didn't care.

But the coldness in his eyes stopped her. She couldn't possibly say anything when he was looking at her like she was… a mere soldier. Not his partner. Not his wife. Not the mother of his child. Just a soldier.

"Yes. I'd—I'd like to see her." She closed her eyes and turned away.

Nik's footfalls sounded in time with each piece of her heart as they dropped down into her feet. Tears fell across her face and she didn't bother to halt them.

_It isn't fair,_ was all she could think.

--&--

As Nyx went to go find her daughter Torn and Ashelin returned to bed. The midnight hour had passed only a few moments ago and they were exhausted, mentally and physically.

Sprawled out on the bed, their limbs lost in a tangled heap of sheets, Ashelin and Torn stared up at the ceiling. She was bunched up at his side and his arm was locked tightly around her waist.

"What was that all about, you think?" she mumbled, twirling one of his dreadlocks. Torn made a grunting sound. "Nik and Nyx, I mean."

"Whatdya mean?" he murmured in reply, pinching her side. Ashelin wiggled closer to him, tightening her hold on his dreadlocks.

"Well, they're married aren't they? Merasaki's their daughter, right?" Torn gave a groan of agreement and she raised her voice to gain his attention. "There was tension there, Torn. Why?"

"I think… Nik didn't want her to go on that spy mission. I can't say I blame him, considering what a mess Sage-Harmona has turned into." He held her against him, touching her shoulder lightly, edging off her shirt.

"But she had to, didn't she? It was her duty, after all."

Torn shook his head. "You don't get it. You're a woman." Ashelin snapped her head up, her eyes narrowing. He smirked at her. "It has nothing to do with me being a sexist. Men… they like to protect their women."

"Do they now?" she asked in a dangerously soft voice.

"Don't get offended. It's the honest truth." He rolled over suddenly, pinning her beneath him. "Nik probably felt like shit that he couldn't protect her. That Nyx went over there without him and all he could do was sit and twiddle his thumbs."

Because she had sensed the same thing, and because she herself knew the feeling, Ashelin wrapped her arms around his neck. "That's no reason for Nik to ignore her, is it?"

"Yeah. There is another. Another thing you won't get because you're not a man." He grinned smugly down into her snarling eyes. "He's gotta accept the fact that she's back and all right. That she never needed his help in the first place. That bruises the male ego." He nudged another one of her sleeves from her shoulder. "But he'll get over it soon enough."

"Really?" Ashelin rubbed her foot against Torn's long leg. "How do you know?"

"You weren't looking into his eyes, Ash. I've seen that look before." He twirled one of her strands of red hair on his fingertip. "He wants her. And not just in lust, though that's _definitely_ there. He wants to hold her. I can almost see the need shining off of him."

She allowed her lips to curve in amusement. "Since when were you Mister Observant?"

"Probably around the time you became Miss Oblivious."

"Torn?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

Because they both needed it, he lowered himself completely on her body, stroking the length of her. She shivered underneath him, locking her arms around his neck and pulling him down.

The connection was something they both needed. The feel of skin sliding against skin allowed them both to understand that they were alive.

And right now, they both needed to be assured that they were alive.

--&--

"Mummy!"

Merasaki streaked across the hallways of the Holy City, throwing herself into Nyx's awaiting arms. She swung her little girl into the air, once, twice, a third time before clasping her against her bosom.

The little girl smell the filled her nostril soothed Nyx in a way nothing else ever could. Because here was her little girl, alive and well, and squirming against her, trying to wrap her arms properly around Nyx's neck.

"I missed you so much, Mera," she breathed against Merasaki's exposed neck. She couldn't let her daughter go. Not yet. She needed to cling for a bit longer. It seemed like eons since she was last able to hold her little girl so tightly.

She was aware of Nik in the room as well. He stood at the threshold of Merasaki's bedroom, watching them both silently. It was the silence that nearly killed her. But the feeling of Merasaki pressing her little body against hers made all thoughts of fear and pain flee from Nyx's mind.

"I thought… I thought you were never comin' back, mummy!" Merasaki cried robustly, pressing her wet eyes into Nyx's exposed neck. "I thought you were dead! Like those people in that Haven place!"

"No, no, no, baby," Nyx said softly, smoothing out Merasaki's fiery top as she trembled. "I love you too much to do something stupid like get myself dead. I came back because I love you."

"I love you too," she sniffled and gave her mother a sloppy kiss, wet with tears. But to Nyx, it was the best kiss in the world. Nothing could compare to the slippery, soaking kiss her daughter blessed her with.

"Someone else wants to greet you," Nik called from the threshold and for a blind moment she thought he spoke of himself. But Nik's voice was still too distant for warmth or compassion.

As she turned, she noticed Sedet's tiny, shaking frame silhouetted in the doorway. With Merasaki still locked tightly around her waist, Nyx bent down and motioned Sedet to come to her. The boy needed no further encouragement and Sedet rushed into her arms, wrapping his skinny arms around her shoulder.

She snaked an arm around the tiny boy's waist and held him against her in the same way she had held Merasaki. He still smelled like a baby. Like the baby boy she would always envision him to be. And, by the Goddess, it was so good to hold him against her.

"How are you?" she managed to ask the small boy. She felt his sharp intake against her body and she held him closer, his pain almost palpable.

"Alright," Sedet answered over a sniffle. She felt his nose rubbing against her bare neck. "I missed you."

It was so out of character for the boy to admit, that Nyx wanted to weep. She pressed noisy kisses to Sedet's forehead and then to Merasaki's.

And then they were crying together, all their tears mixing and mingling. Nyx encircled them in her battle-weary arms and held them tight to her, reminding herself why she fought and why she saw good men die.

_I'm so glad that you're here, Merasaki. I'm so glad you're here, Sedet. _

Weakly, tears still running fresh down her cheeks, she broke away and smoothed Sedet's hair back. "You've been looking after your mother, like I asked you to?"

The little boy managed a nod. His lower lip trembled as he answered her, "Uh-huh… but she's… she's…! And Daddy is—he's gone. I'm sorry, Nyx."

"Sorry?" she demanded softly, keeping a firm hold on Sedet as he trembled. "What on earth have you to be sorry for, little prince?"

Sedet managed in a rare show of strength to pull away. He wiped weakly at his sniffling nose. "I promised to look after things, d—didn't I? I—I couldn't, Nyx. Everything just… just got bad!"

"Sedet!" Merasaki said suddenly, throwing herself from her mother onto the boy. She wrapped her cubby, child-arms around his shaking frame. "You did good! You did good! You're a great prince! Great!"

The misery in Sedet's eyes clearly stated he didn't believe her. His shoulders slumped weakly as he fought more tears.

Nyx was hit with a wave of surprising rage. Sedet was just a boy. What right did anyone have to allow such pain and anguish to be bestowed upon him? There was such misery in the boy's eyes, more misery than anyone his age should ever have to feel.

Motioning Merasaki to stand back, she gripped Sedet's shoulder tightly. "Mera's right, Sedet. You listen to me. No. _Listen_ to me. You did better than I could imagine. You're doing great. Your father and mother would be proud."

The look in Sedet's eyes stated that he didn't dare begin to hope in such a statement. "Really?" he whispered in disbelief.

"Really," she answered him and brought him back into the circle of her arms. Merasaki's hands gripped the back of Nyx's armor and she felt her daughter's head pressing against the back of her neck.

The need, the urge, to have Nik near her swarmed her. She looked up, sought out his eyes. He stood there still in the threshold, his back reclining against the frame, his hair ablaze in the dark.

But when he caught her eyes, when he saw what she wanted from him, he only shook his head. Then he turned and walked stiffly away, his footfalls thudding ominously against the hallways.

Biting her lip, Nyx went back to holding the children.

And later that night, after she put Sedet and Merasaki to bed, she laid in their bed, waiting for him, holding her breath and hoping against hope. Her blonde hair spilled out against the white sheets as she curled her body under the blankets, not daring to even peek at the door.

Of course, he didn't come and she wasn't terribly surprised. Even if she cried.

--&--

Daxter didn't go to sleep in the same bed as his wife, either. But he couldn't stay away from their room.

He watched Tess sleeping peacefully, her face coated in a fresh mask of tears. In the moonlight, the tracks of them were bright and vibrant against her pale skin. And though her breathing was, for the most part, even and deep, he saw the occasional hitch in it.

Every so often her breath would hiss out and she would throw her head every which way, grasping at some invisible grail that she found just out of her reach. Then she would settle back against the coverlets and still her breathing once more.

A bitter taste welled up in Daxter's throat. After all, he was almost positive that that impossible grail Tess strove for was the life and family she had envisioned for them when they first got married.

He closed his hand into a fist.

"I'm sorry, Tess," he breathed deeply. Pain hummed behind his eyelids and he closed them briefly. Into the night air he forced himself to utter, "I'm sorry, Lee."

His little boy would be a man by now and he knew—he sensed it, deep down inside his very core—that Lee would be beyond disappointed with him. With how he handled Tess, and his life after Lee's death, and most importantly…

The words were almost ripped out of him.

"I'm sorry, Maelia."

He remembered now, in ways he hadn't before, his daughter's eyes. How she had looked at him so yearningly, silently begging him to love her. To be her father and not a stranger. And he, the selfish bastard he was, had turned her down time and time again.

But he hadn't been able to touch her, love her. Not then. The world had stopped being important to him. It felt like he was hollow and empty inside. It felt like if he touched anything, cared about anything, they would blacken and wither before his eyes. He couldn't stand the thought of Tess, or Maelia, suffering through that.

It was half the truth, he supposed. He had wanted to protect Maelia and Tess from the taint inside him. But, even more so, he wanted to protect himself. He had barely survived Lee's death and the thought of losing anyone again, _anyone_, had destroyed him.

And then he lost Jak.

Daxter stopped thinking about it because it hurt too much. That was what he did, he supposed. Shut things out when they were too painful for him. Because he was a coward. Because he couldn't stand being hurt, again.

Now the consequences were spreading out before his eyes. His vast indifference had hurt the people he had cared about the most, had wrecked and destroyed them as much as he was wrecked and destroyed.

Briefly, Daxter allowed himself to close his eyes. He absorbed the pain, thought maybe he deserved it.

Tess gave a low moan of pain. He opened his eyes just in time to see Tess fling her hand over her face, rubbing at her drying tear tracks. She whimpered and broke what remained of Daxter's heart.

Then, like she had done before, she stilled herself and returned back to the thickness of sleep. But her sorrow and her pain lingered on, mocking Daxter.

And Maelia, he thought now. Maelia.

The heart that he had ignored for years and years was suddenly aching deep inside him. Daxter rubbed absently at his chest. His daughter was… gone. Out in the desert somewhere—he hoped—with Ryu and Aithne.

Or she could be dead. Dead like Lee. But if Maelia died it would be worse. It would be worse because Daxter never took the time to love her like he had loved Lee. And the knowledge that if Maelia died now he would never be able to love her like a father should hurt him more than anything ever had.

He lifted a fist and pressed into his temple. Pain throbbed behind his eyelids.

"Goddess," he moaned softly into the darkness, "what have I done?"

--&--

The world had, for the most part, remained unchanging for seventeen years. Even despite Sage-Harmona and its military gains, there had been a silence over the world. As if nothing could have disturbed it.

Teetering on the edge of all-out war, the world had managed to stay balanced. Even with betrayal and death shaking its stand, the world had remained steady. War was something terrible and costly and avoided if at all possible.

Now, suddenly, the world had no choice but to dive head first into the murky space of war. There was no choice.

It had to move.

Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi, knowing this, smirked and leaned over the map of the Holy City spread out on the table before him. He trailed a finger along its outer walls, imagining even now what they would look like as ruin and rubble.

He had longed for this moment, the moment when Sage-Harmona would rise up once more and be the city and military power it was meant to be. He had betrayed his lord and lady, had killed children and princes alike, for this simple reason.

Now, finally, the city that he loved would gain back its fame and fortune. The historians would sing of this day, he knew.

"General," he said casually to the man by his side as he clicked his heels together and saluted him. "Take an archer and have him light it. Then shot into the night sky."

"Sir?"

A smile covered Hirmoyarbeshi's lips as he slapped a hand in the center of the drawing of the Holy City. "Tomorrow is our preemptive strike on the Holy City. We'll see if we can convince them to surrender without loss of life. The Mage should know, don't you agree?"

"Yes, sir." The general saluted and scampered off, calling out for a capable archer.

"Well now, Mage," Hirmoyarbeshi said with an amused grin. "Looks like you're going to get your bloody war."

The fiery arrow pierced the sky, lighting up momentarily with its bright, red light. The embers slithered to the ground and died off. But for one brilliant moment the entire night sky was painted with blood.

And in his chambers, the Mage saw it. He smiled and lifted a wine glass to his lips, welcoming the dawn and the blood and sweat and death that would come with it.

But the Mage was not the only one who saw it. General Tage Yao saw it as well. And he saw it with a certain amount of dread.

He knew that the Holy City would fall to Sage-Harmona. Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi had spent seventeen years training and honing its military might while the Holy City had gone lax and relaxed in its time of peace.

It might fall as quickly as Haven City had.

Tage hoped not. He needed time yet. His plan was almost ready to commence but he needed a bit more time. Just a bit. And then everything would be ready. He would cut Sage-Harmona off at its knees.

But it all depended on what happened with the Holy City.

Sighing deeply, he offered prayers up to the Goddess that the time was granted. He prayed the Holy City would hold out. If it fell to the might of Sage-Harmona then all was lost.

_A bit more time, Father,_ Tage thought.

But he knew what prayers were usually. If he wanted to help the Yoshimoro heir—and he was certain the boy in the palace had been the heir, with that medallion—he would have to move. With or without the forces he required, the time was quickly approaching when he would have to reveal his true clothes.

Oh, he yearned for that moment.

But all his sacrifices and betrayals would mean nothing if he did not have the numbers and weapons to help the remaining Yoshimoro.

Time. He needed time.

Perhaps Tage Yao's prayers were answered. For Gareth of Luxhine returned home to the Holy City that night.

The cloak around his body was wind-ripped and torn along its side. His clothes had seen better days and his water supply was running low. But none of that mattered to him. Right now he couldn't think of anything past his failure.

Gareth had left the city to find a cure for his wife's illness, an illness brought on by Sage-Harmona. And he was coming back empty handed.

Not only did that mean that Gareth had failed—and he hated failing—but it meant that his wife would die. It meant that whatever time she had left was truly all she had. And Sedet would be without a mother.

His fingers closed into angry fists as he thought of Sala, withering away as the disease ate her from the inside out. He wished bitterly that Sage-Harmona had some tangible face, so he could ram his fists into it.

But it didn't and he was left feeling useless and dead inside. His stomach churned with nauseous as his mind continued to play over in his head what it would feel like to return home to tell his son his mother was going to die.

For a moment, he couldn't move. He simple stood where he was, on top of a sand dune. He shook from hate and fear and useless rage. He and Sala had sacrificed so much, almost everything, to see their beloved city safe and happy and now he was losing one of the most important things in the world to him.

He was struck with the unfairness of it. It was like a slap in the face, a mockery of everything he had strove to achieve throughout all his years. It left him embittered and hollow. All he wanted to do was go home.

And see Sala before she died.

A hand slapped against his lips as Gareth felt the sickness race up his throat. He bent over and fought the urge to vomit. Eventually the need for it lowered and he was brave enough to raise his head. He pushed himself off his knees and continued his walk.

He could see the spirals of the Holy City as he climbed up the next sand dune. He was swarmed with the feelings of both joy and dread. Joy to finally look on home and dread because he knew what would come shortly after.

_Sala_.

Blindly, he raced down the dune, kicking up sand. He felt like he might be crying but he wasn't sure. And he would never be sure. All he was aware of was getting home in that moment.

But he had to stop. He nearly tripped as his legs gave out beneath him. Sand filled his mouth just as he started to the ash. Joy and dread quickly banked to fear. And Gareth's great sadness was replaced with a great terror.

Beneath him, just under the sand dune where he rested, were the tents of the Sage-Harmona army. He could see the flags dancing gracefully in the wind, the Yoshimoro insignia still the symbol of Sage-Harmona even though he knew the bloodline to be dead.

The tents were spread out before him in a terrifying ocean of black. Gareth battled the urge to run headfirst into the midst of the tents and find the man who was responsible for Sala's illness.

He didn't. He couldn't. He pressed himself deeper into the sands and edged away. If the army was here, it meant they were planning to attack the Holy City. Gareth had to be prepared to take command of the Holy City forces.

Once the battle started he was sure he could gain entrance to the Holy City. He would be able to find Nik and take command from him. But for now, he just had to make sure he wasn't seen.

The one thing he could not do was fail the Holy City. He had let Sala, and Sedet, down but he wouldn't do that for his city.

And, Goddess, he had to protect his son.

With his eyes burning hot blue in the darkness, Gareth eyed the Holy City. He imagined Sala still alive in its walls and prayed it was true. He prayed his son was safe and secure. He prayed Nik was doing alright without him. He prayed Nyx and Merasaki were both safe.

He waited.

--&--

Just as night settled, Kiff Fire gave the world that she and her people who would support her were to move out. They followed Cyren as he was led by Roid out of the city and back into the desert.

Their eyes were now completely on the Holy City.

As the world prepared itself for a full-scale war once more, its hero Jak Mar was sitting beside his limp and silent wife. Her fingers were cold and lifeless in his strong hands and her face was a pale mask of indifference.

"Keira?" he called softly, stroking her smooth cheek. It was useless, he knew, but he couldn't stop looking for some kind of response from her.

But, as always, Keira was pale and silent on the small cot of Venn's single wagon.

They would reach the Holy City tomorrow, or so Crea said. And with that arrival rode Jak's hope that the mages at the Holy City would be able to awaken Keira from her deep slumber.

And if they couldn't…

He swore, bitterly, and gripped Keira's fingers tighter.

No, he wouldn't think about what would happen if they couldn't. That would just make him sick. For now, he needed to be strong. Once Keira was safe and breathing and awake than he would allow all his fears and worries to surface.

For now, he had to be strong.

The bitter truth was, he didn't want to be. He had been strong all his life. Now that everything he held dear was in danger all he wanted to do was rest his weary head on top of Keira's and sleep.

Everything had turned out wrong. All his hopes and dreams and aspirations had fallen flat, defeated by a harsh dose of reality. Keira was sick, the world was spiraling out of control, and his daughter…

His daughter hated him.

Jak accepted the wave of pain that washed over him at the knowledge. It would always be there. As a man used to rage and terror, it was easy to recognize it in Aithne. It burned so clearly in her eyes, and it was aimed directly at him.

_All I wanted to do was give us, all of us, a happy future,_ he thought as he looked down at Keira's pale and lifeless face. _Don't we deserve it? _

"I'm sorry, Keira," his voice broke the silence of the night. His fingers tightened briefly on hers as he struggled for composure. He was close to an emotional breakdown, after all that happened. But Jak was a strong man and he held on. "I'm so sorry."

Without shaking he managed to press a small kiss to her forehead.

During their separation, those tender moments that Jak had shared with Keira had kept him going. The desert sands had been harsh and brutal and Jak had no choice but to cling to memories and hopes for the future.

A family. That was all he had ever wanted. A family and a future. A chance to be happy. Was that really so much to ask for? Why had Fate decreed it necessary for him to suffer, time and time again?

Why must he lose everything he loved?

Unable to resist, Jak brought Keira's motionless body into his arms, rocking them both. Keira's warm breath tickled his neck and he found himself battling a wave of nausea as it rose up.

Weakly, he smothered back her hair.

_Not like this, Keira. I never wanted it… like this. _

"I'm sorry," he told herself softly, again. His voice cracked with the overwhelming emotions that pressed down on him. "I'm sorry. This is all my fault. All my fault. Keira, I never should have left you…"

He stared out into the darkness, his eyes quaking with rage. Yes, he never should have left. But what choice had he had? It was the will of a god. And not just any god, Jak's god. Lokin had chosen Jak since birth, had favored him, and in the end had helped Jak kill a god.

It was a debt and Jak had to repay it, whether he liked it or not.

But—

"I never wanted any of this. I wanted us to have a future, Keira. A future. And Aithne… Goddess, Keira, Aithne. I never wanted—I hoped—I just wanted her to be happy. When you told me about Aithne, Keira, I didn't know what kind of father I'd make but I—I wanted her to be happy. I wanted our child to have a future." He pressed his forehead against Keira's, rocking with a great and terrible sadness. "And she hates me. My daughter hates me."

Aithne's dark blue eyes—_his_ eyes—filtered into Jak's mind. And all he saw in them was the hate. And the rage.

To battle that pain, he closed his eyes. "I promise you, Keira, I promise. I'm not leaving. Never again. I don't care what happens, but I'm going to stay with you. And Aithne. I won't leave any of you again." He shifted so he was seated on the cot and Keira was cradled in the circle of his arms. "I promise you, Keira. Even if—even if you don't want me, I'll never leave you. _Never_."

For a long moment he stared out into the darkness. The moonlight was eerie on Keira's skin and only heightened the silver on his palm.

"I'm sorry, Keira. So sorry. This is all my fault… all I wanted was our future."

And so deep was Jak's grief that he missed the slight sniffle just outside the tent.

Aithne lowered herself to the ground, burying her face against her knees and fighting tears. Her throat was dry and her heart ached deeply.

She clenched her fists into the fabric covering her legs and sobbed quietly.

* * *

**notes:** hmm… what will become of Aithne and Jak? Well, if you know me, you can guess it won't be flowers and sunshine, but _will_ become of them? They do seem to be at an impasse. Why am I asking you, you wonder? Well, I don't know. I'm just the author here.

**Act XX:** Crea lets it sleep, Nik and Nyx finally get somewhere, and Aithne's emotional problems just got a whole lot worse

**reviews**

**AngelSilentWind:** yeah, well, maybe I should just go hide in a corner now, yes? XD

**Specter Von Baren:** well, Cyren was pretty young when his family was overthrown and even if he could remember bits and pieces of that night, I'm sure his mind recognizes the trauma waiting to happen and it's just kinda been… pushed aside for him

**ChatterBox101:** don't worry about Crea and Jak. They're got a very father/daughter/brother/sister relationship going on. Crea just really needs someone to support her. And I don't if I classify anything in this story sweet… and if I can, I'll have to fix it

**Xazz:** yeah, lucky for Maelia she needed to get into Ryu's pants because the girl has had enough disappointment in her life. But I only allowed that because I found… _other_ people to kill off… I'm really evil

**ForestWalker:** let me answer your questions in highly cryptic one-sentence answers! Oh, you know it's coming. See the chapter :D Perhaps. In a way. They'll see _something_. Lokin is not finished with Jak.

**Chantz:** as you can see in this chapter Aithne is learning to deal. She's not happy about it, but she's learning. It's all part of growing up. And, yes, Jak and Aithne are virtually unable to have a normal father/daughter relationship, too much has happened, too much time has passed. But, when you get down to the nitty gritty, Aithne seems to resemble her father a lot and that _might_ affect their relationship, as well as Aithne's maturity. As for Kiff and Roid, well they're very close friends (you wouldn't know that because you're not in my head… sorry) and Roid, before he left, basically supported Kiff Fire in everything she did and all her goals. Also, they both he left the city so Kiff could become the leader, so Kiff likely feels a deep abiding trust for him

**Carree:** Keira's going to be out for a little bit longer, just because her awakening is really going to shake up the relationship with Aithne and Jak, since she is the common thread that binds them. And when she does wake up, Keira's going to have quite a shell-shock

**Darkening Light:** oh, I've still got a few twists up my sleeve and one more character to truly add to the cast. And, I've discovered, that as people's times of deaths or times of unrest, things like love and affection tend to come to light just because people _need_ it more than ever than

**Teh Kitsune:** you know why? Because Maelia _was_ dead right up until she wasn't. The very first chunk of the previous chapter is from the original version where Maelia died. I just liked how it was written and I didn't want to waste it. XD A lot of stuff happened in the last chapter and it was a lot to take in, but… just trust me. After all, Metal Head nests aren't all that different from a city are they? (gods knows they're just as hard to _navigate_ through… stupid Jak 3). As for the Jak and Aithne situation, it still remains to be seen whether or not Keira will make it better or worse!

**jaklover123:** ah love… but knowing me, it would last long. XD And it's funny how I can see Aithne and Jak pulling a guy thing where they beat each other up and then become the best of friends… it just fit them…


	20. Part Four: Tyger Burning Bright

**Disclaimer:** I make no claims at owning this

**Author's notes:** oh. My. God. Is this _on time_!? What crazed, messed-up world have we entered? And, like, look! We are totally into Part Four, which means that things are going to heat up. People… are going to _die_.

**warning(s):** none, as of yet…

* * *

**Part Four: Penalties of War **

**Act XX: Tyger Burning Bright**

Aithne wasn't sure what she was doing, but she knew she couldn't stand at her mother's tent and listen to her father's heartbreaking admittance.

_Heartbreaking_. That was all her father had done. Break her mother's heart. And Aithne had sworn it would never happen to her. Yet here she was, struggling against tears after listening to Jak mourn over Keira.

It wasn't fair. She knew that. It wasn't fair to her. To Keira. Hell, even to Jak.

And it wasn't his fault. Jak's absence from their life. Aithne got that. She wasn't so ignorant to realize that it hadn't been entirely Jak's choice to leave her and her mother. Something had made him.

But she didn't want to _admit_ she knew that. Like a child, she wanted to cling to her hate and anger. When her mother had sunk deep into depression over Jak's death, Aithne could only rely on her hate to keep her alive.

She had refused to be like her mother, withering away for a man who was never coming back. Aithne had always made herself stronger than that.

Now Jak Mar was back and she wasn't selfish enough to pretend that her mother would keep Jak out of her life for her daughter.

_It isn't fair! It's isn't fair!_ Like a child, she wanted to weep with the loss of the one constant in her life. Friends had left—Maelia and Ryu in their 'betrayal' of their friendship with her when they had joined the Krimzon Guard—and emotions had changed—Cyren wasn't just a friend anymore—but hating Jak Mar had always been the same. Aithne had comforted herself with the knowledge that no matter how much something else changed, her hatred and anger at Jak Mar would remain the same.

Aithne's hate was changing into something else now. Something entirely different and it frightened her.

_I don't want it to change! _

Over and over again, like a mantra, Aithne heard Jak Mar's voice. _"I'm sorry, Keira. So sorry. This is all my fault… all I wanted was our future." _

There was an understanding for Jak inside her and Aithne didn't want it there. She wanted Jak to continue to be the villain of her youth, the man who had ripped her mother from her and ruined her family.

But at the back of her mind, Aithne knew he wasn't. He was Jak Mar and he was a hero and all he wanted was to be a good husband, and a good father.

"I can't forgive him," she whispered into the night. "I just can't." Aithne couldn't ever. She knew that—even as she knew that she could no longer place the blame of her life solely on Jak Mar—that it wasn't even her right to blame him for the grief Keira had gone through and her own secret pain.

Aithne's hate had been a manifestation of her grief, a secret, painful grief.

She had kept it secret as a child and, as she moved into adulthood, she had buried it so deep under the hate she had even failed to recognize it.

_How can I possibly forgive him for all he's done?_ She thought, rubbing her eyes. _He was alive and he left us. No word to Mom. I don't care about a damn god. He should have let us know. _

"Aithne?" a voice called and she jumped in surprise, whirling around and expelling a breath. It was only Roid. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she began and her lip quivering. Quickly, she turned away. "No. No, I'm not. Everything's changed, Roid. _Everything_. Even me. I'm not even who I thought I was."

Roid came to her side and said nothing.

"I kissed Cyren," she said, thinking back to it. "I kissed him and everything changed. Now my father isn't dead, and he isn't horrible, and he wants to be a part of my mother's life. And Cyren—"

With a shaky breath, she broke off. No, she didn't want to think about Cyren. It hurt too much. Even more than Jak Mar did. Because she _loved_ Cyren and she knew he was going to leave her. And she knew he had to. Not that he wanted to. He _had_ to because there were people who needed him.

And Cyren loved her.

Silently, Roid watched Aithne struggle inwardly with her emotions. He wanted to find the right words to comfort her but knew there were none. Aithne was more like Roid then she realizes.

They both knew what it was to love someone out of their league.

But Roid knew what it was like to lose that person and prayed that Aithne never felt it.

"You could always go with Cyren to Sage-Harmona, when he becomes king," Roid pointed out calmly, wishing the girl would see the logic in his words, even though he knew she wouldn't.

"No. I can't. I'm not meant to be a queen and my mother… my mother will need me." At least, she hoped. With Jak Mar back it was all but impossible to tell. Deep in thought, she walked away from Roid.

Watching her walk away, Roid thought she would make a good queen.

--&--

The Holy City. A place she had always acquainted with her past. A past where she had been bright and happy and wild and a tad on the insane side of the spectrum. A time when she had believed that the world would open up to her and embrace her as her own.

She had stayed as far away from the Holy City as she could. She couldn't face her sister again, not in the state she was. Nyx would know something had happened and she would demand an explanation that she was not—and likely never would—be ready to give.

Now Crea was going back.

The very thought of it nearly had her jumping out her skin. How could she possibly go back? Everything about her was tainted but she had struggled so hard over the years to remind herself that her time in the Holy City had been pure and whole and wonderful. She had managed to succeed, but only barely, and she had been so afraid of what she was capable of doing, of that worming infestation inside her, that she hadn't dared to return.

Even though a part of her—a part of her that was still the Crea from all those years ago—had wanted to go back. To bury herself in her sister's arm and tell her everything that had happened. Nyx would try to help her, Crea knew, she would try to her dying breath to heal the scars that riddled Crea's heart.

But surely by now she had a family and life with Nik—she couldn't have held that against the redhead, Crea knew, because she was too desperately in love with Nik—and Crea hadn't wanted to bring her darkness to them. She hadn't wanted to destroy their happiness with what twisted and killed inside her. She couldn't.

So she had stayed away. Every time Venn made the suggestion to go there, she had shut him down. It was bad enough she lingered with Venn, risking the possibility of touching him with what was inside her, but she wouldn't do that to her sister, who deserved nothing short of happiness.

Yet, she was going back.

There was no other choice. Haven City had fallen and the last stronghold against the outreaches of Sage-Harmona was the Holy City. And they couldn't hold out forever, not against what Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi was bringing to the battle.

The Holy City would fall without allies.

Crea just wished she could find a way to not go. A way to escape going back to her past, to having it mock and remind her of everything that had been taken away.

Of course she couldn't, too much was riding on this endeavor for her to pull out. She was ashamed of her sister seeing her and of revealing what the Mage had done to her, but not enough to let Sage-Harmona win.

The Mage might be there as well, Crea had realized, and she would never give up a chance to gain her vengeance against the man who had destroyed her. She would face the hounds of hell if the Mage's blood awaited her at the end.

Killing the Mage would not make her whole, Crea knew that. She might never be whole again. But she wouldn't let him get away with what he had done.

With those dark thoughts circling her head, she stepped out from her tent and into the cool desert night air. A wind ruffled her hair gently, sending the pale gold waterfall swaying against her back.

Maybe she should have it chopped off, Crea mused, touching the long tendrils. A short hair-cut would better suit nomad travel and would make caring for it much easier… but Crea had clung to her hair for some odd reason. Cutting it felt like cutting a part of herself, the good part.

Plus, she remembered how Venn used to curl his fingers in the tips, smiling dreamily at her.

A frown ended the train of thoughts. Crea never thought of Venn like that. She didn't dare. She was being selfish enough, remaining with him when she was so stained, but acknowledging Venn's feelings for her—and perhaps her own—would be breeching a line she drew when she first saw Venn's eyes the morning after.

At all costs, she would protect him.

If that meant cutting off her hair and severing their last connection to one another, so be it.

It put such an ache in her heart, one that too often felt cold from neglect and hate. Secretly, she didn't want to lose Venn. Not to the monster she had become. But she didn't want the monster to destroy Venn. Not sweet, kind Venn.

She would figure everything out after the Holy City. After she had taken care of the Mage.

Her boots crunched against the grainy sand and she considered seeking out Jak. If anyone understood what it was like to be haunted and stained it was Jak Mar. When he had stepped back into her life some of the tension in her soul had eased. Because, finally, she could be with someone who knew what it was to lose all they were to a single, malicious being.

But she didn't. Jak was likely with Keira—he never strayed far from her side—and she didn't want to intrude on their time together. Jak needed to be constantly assured that Keira was going to survive and Crea wasn't all that sure if she was. It all depended on if they could reach the Holy City.

And that it hadn't already fallen.

It wouldn't though, she assured herself. Not with Gareth and Sala it's leaders.

That didn't stop her from being worried. About everything.

She didn't feel Venn's presence near her until she had stepped passed him. With a small sound of surprise she jerked around, eyes widening. She had always been so aware of Venn. She had always had to distance herself from him properly

This time she hadn't noticed him. She had been too overwhelmed by the feeling of returning home to feel the power of his presence. And she was caught unaware and vulnerable near him. She wasn't used to that, hadn't been like that near him ever and it scared her to death.

Venn stood from his seat against his tent. His dark hair covered his gray eyes as he stood. And even though his readable eyes were hidden to her, Crea could sense his anger. It seemed to roll off him in waves. She was suddenly tense, poised for action, ready for a fight.

Everything about Venn was taut. From the set of his shoulders to the way he moved towards her. It put her on edge. Venn had been angry before… but _never_ like this. It was a nearly palpable substance around him. And made her bouncy with nerves.

"Venn?"

For a moment he merely stared past her, his jaw tight. Crea's instincts were on high alert and something told her to run. Staying would only bring pain. And yet she didn't. She never had to run from Venn before. Of all the things that would have hurt her, he was the most harmless.

The way he was staring past her didn't make him seem harmless anymore.

Not sure what to do—or what she could do—she took a tentative step toward him. "Venn."

He remained quiet but he turned his attention onto her, his eyes suddenly hot and burning up her body. Crea found herself under intense scrutiny as Venn eyed her silently, not touching. But it felt like he was pressing down on her.

Crea wanted it to stop, desperately. She just didn't know how.

And then Venn looked away, his eyes dark in the moonlight. "You like Jak?" he asked and it took Crea several moments to get over the surprise of his words. _Like Jak? _

"Of course," she answered honestly, careful to keep several feet away from him at all times. He had the look of a panther now, poised and ready to jump. "I've known him since I was little."

"You've known me since I was little," Venn said cryptically and Crea took another cautious step backwards.

Yes, she'd known Venn since she was little. Since before her rebirth. Way longer than Jak. But Jak hadn't been used against her. Her feelings for Jak hadn't been twisted and manipulated to suit a mad man's whims.

Jak was safer than Venn. A whole lot safer.

"Jak's… Jak's…" She wasn't sure how to explain it, not to him. And she didn't want to either. These were parts of her that Venn would never be touched by.

But he was still stalking her.

"What's wrong with me!?" he demanded suddenly and the whole world went still. "Why can you talk an—and be kind and _smile_ at Jak, but not me!? What am I… diseased? I need to know, I'm tired of goddamn guessing. Trying to put the distance that you want between us when all I want is to… to hold you! What's wrong with me, Crea?"

_Oh Venn…_ she thought desperately, feeling something inside her hitch painfully. _You were never supposed to think that! You were supposed… supposed to forget all about me. I'm selfish, so selfish, that I didn't leave you like I should_.

And still she couldn't answer him.

All she could do was stare at him in silent horror. She had never meant Venn to blame himself for what had happened, just like she had never meant for him to remain in love with her over the years. Even when he had gone around proclaiming it when they were younger, she had never really believed him. Crea had always figured it was some hormonal driven need to claim that which he couldn't have.

Once she had realized she couldn't touch Venn—ever—she had thought that pulling away and being cold and distant would cause him to forget whatever proclamations of love he had.

For the most part it had seemed accurate. Venn hadn't been so close and pressuring like he had before the Mage had touched her. He had given her space but had allowed her to continue to be near him and she had been eternally grateful to him.

Now it appeared as if it had merely been Venn trying to do what he contrived as her wishes and that it had eaten at him that he couldn't be with her.

Suddenly, she knew that he was going to grab her.

When she started to streak way from him, Venn moved. He didn't move so fast so often but she knew he was more than capable of it. And he was so _strong_. His broad fingers wrapped around her shoulders and hauled her back, forcing her to face him.

She didn't want to. She couldn't.

The way he loomed above her, his face contorted in rage was a throwback to all those years ago when she had been a young girl and the Mage had sought to destroy her, and had succeeded.

He wasn't Venn anymore. He was the entity who had changed her forever. He was the Mage in Venn's skin and she was panicking.

_Too tight,_ she thought wildly, her eyes widening in terror and fear, _he's holding me too tight. He'll kill me. Kill me. _

"Let me go!" she cried, but her voice only came out as whimper and it was lost in the night. She struggled fruitlessly, but furiously, against the grip that held her firm. It wasn't Venn anymore. It was her nightmares. "Let me go!"

"No." Before, he would have. Before, the fear and terror in her eyes would have him backing away and apologizing. But all he could remember was the way she had let Jak hold her. "Not until you tell me."

She kicked outward, forgetting all her training. She was so tiny and the Mage was so big and he would kill her. He would make everything inside her dirty and she never wanted to feel that way again.

Inside, she knew it was Venn. Something kept shouting at her that it was Venn who clutched and held her. But it didn't matter. Her heart was pounding, her skin was slick with sweat, and Venn looked like he did on the night she was mind-raped. On the night when the Mage used his face to rip apart her mind.

_Goddess no! _

If she had been able to she would have cried. She would have screamed in terror. But those actions were locked up tightly inside her chest and she couldn't get them free. All she could do was struggle against Venn and everything he wanted to give her.

"Tell me!" he thundered, his voice racing up her mind and making her fear all that more intense. "Damnit! You tell me!" He broke off into rapid desert tongue, swearing at her and swearing at himself but not letting go.

If he kept touching her she knew she would die. She would break into a thousand little pieces and would die. And it would be painful. She just wanted it to _stop_. All the fear inside her, all the rage, all the remorse and hate. She wanted it all to go away.

"He raped me!" she screamed because the words had been at the back of her throat for so long and she knew—with such sudden clarity, she knew—that if she said them he would let go of her. "The Mage, he raped me."

Venn's hands slid from her shoulders and she was so _relieved_ because they had been crushing her, suffocating her. Making her _feel_ again and it had been awful because she had been cold for so long.

"But I… I don't… how…?"

"Mind-raped. He mind-raped me," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her shaking body. She didn't want to tell him. She had never wanted this to touch him. But it was out now and she couldn't seem to stop the rest of the words. "He came into my wagon that night when we were near Sage-Harmona. He came in but he looked like _you_."

She didn't mean for it to sound accusing but it was such an awful memory. It was awful how the Mage had used her friend—her best friend—to destroy her and how she had let him.

"He looked like you and he was you and then he wasn't. He was the Mage after, but he was you before. You climbed on top of me and I didn't understand. Then he was the Mage and I did. He got inside my mind, Venn! He got _inside_ and tore everything up. Everything up inside me and I wasn't myself anymore. He made everything dirty and he looked like _you_."

And there. She said it.

He kept staring at her, as if waiting for her to announce that it was all a joke and that it wasn't true. And Crea wished desperately to take it back because it wasn't his fault and it should never have touched him.

But she couldn't.

"Crea, I—" He moved and she knew. He wanted to hold her now, to touch her, to soothe them both with the sudden drastic change in their relationship. He knew what had caused her aloofness now, what had caused her depression. What had changed her.

_No._ She thought. She couldn't be touched. She was too raw and she wouldn't let the darkness festering inside her touch him. There was something terrible and awful inside her, something the Mage had left, and she was so afraid that it would kill Venn. Kill him like all her memories and happiness had been killed.

If anything happened to Venn…

Thinking about it had her jerking away, her eyelashes lined with tears and her teeth bared. "Don't _touch_ me," she snarled. "_Don't_."

His hand dropped away and she was more than a little surprised.

"Crea, I lo—"

"_Don't_," she hissed again. He couldn't love her. If he loved her, she would destroy him. He'd become tainted like she would. That would _end_ her.

With no other option, she turned and ran. Praying he didn't follow her.

She wasn't sure whether she was upset or relieved that he didn't.

--&--

It was her second night back in the Holy City and Nyx knew that she couldn't stand spending it in her bed, _alone_. And, with Nik as the leader of the Holy City, he would need the sleep more than she.

So instead, she found herself in the playroom with her daughter. Merasaki had told Nyx that she couldn't sleep most nights from fear and worry and it made Nyx want to sob. These thoughts were plaguing her tiny, innocent daughter? It sickened her.

"But you're here, Mama!" Merasaki had pointed out with a carefree smile that obviously hid the dwelling worry underneath. "So everything will be all right."

She didn't know if everything would be all right—if anything would ever be all right again—but she didn't have the heart to tell Merasaki that. She was just a child—_her child_—and deserved only to think of happy thoughts.

"What has Daddy been doing while I was gone?" Nyx asked, trying to sound casual in asking it. But the truth was she was a little embarrassed that she had to find information about her husband from her daughter.

Wasn't there something wrong with that?

"Lonely," Merasaki answered instantly, blinking up at her. "And tired. Daddy's always tired. And scared. He tells me he isn't, but I can tell. He's scared. Especially since Lady Sala got sick and Lord Gareth left… he's tired and lonely and scared."

And Nyx wanted to hold her husband so bad.

"It's going to be alright, isn't it, Momma?" Merasaki asked as they entered the playroom, her hand small and innocent in Nyx's.

"Of course, baby. Of course." She let go of her little girl's hand and watched her scurry across the room to pick out a toy, secretly praying she wasn't wrong.

But she saw the Sage-Harmona forces around the Holy City, waiting like predators for the right moment to attack. And Sage-Harmona was so strong. It had years to hone its power, years the Holy City had spent in peace. Was there any chance for survival at all?

She looked at Merasaki and her heart moved painfully. There had to be. She couldn't live with the thought that her daughter would fall prey to a madman's scheme of world domination. She wouldn't let that happen. She'd die first.

All her life she had been fighting in wars. In the time before time, she had been a soldier and she was still one now. But she wanted—oh she wanted—to forget all that. She wanted to live out the rest of her life with her family.

And Nik. _Oh Nik… _

Cold washed over her and Nyx turned her thoughts away from him. It killed her to think of Nik. The way he callously treated, looking through and past her, as if he didn't see her. It made her ache in places so bad.

It was all she could do to get up and go on. She could only hope that Nik would forgive her and come back to her. That they fix the rift between them.

But she just didn't know if they could.

"I miss Sedet," Merasaki said suddenly, breaking Nyx's chain of thoughts. And thank God for that. "He doesn't play with me anymore."

"No?" she asked and reached for her daughter. Merasaki went into her arms willingly, burying her nose into her bosom, shaking only slightly.

"No," she answered. "He just stays in the hospital all day and night, looking over Lady Sala. He looks so _sad_, Mama."

Poor, poor Sedet. He was still a child but he had so many responsibilities to carry. And carry them he did, and with a seriousness he adopted from both his parents. It must have been awful for the little boy to find himself without both his parents just as a war over his city started.

Everything was just so wrong. Everything she had fought for was slipping through her fingers and she couldn't stand it. But she couldn't stop it.

"Let's go see Sedet and make him stop being sad, alright?" She managed a smile for her daughter and pressed her cute, button nose inward slightly. "At least for a little while. You wanna do that?"

Merasaki's eyes grew wide, hauntingly dark against her bright red hair. She nodded, a smile curving her lips that reminded Nyx of happier times. Brighter times.

Together, her fingers laced with Merasaki's, they strode down the hallway, toward the medical bay. Nyx was a bit tired but she couldn't stand the thought of sleeping alone in her bed and even being tired and awake sounded better.

The hallways of the Holy City's palace were quiet and the marble floors made the clicks of Nyx and Merasaki deafening. Merasaki skipped ahead a little ways so that Nyx nearly lost her in the darkness.

Would it be like that when Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi finally attacked? Would she lose her daughter as she did now.

"Mera!" she cried softly, halting the little girl. "Wait for me."

Increasing her pace, Nyx clattered along the hall to catch up to Merasaki. The little girl awaited at her at the cross section to the west wing of the palace and the medical bay. Moonlight spilled from the glass ceiling and shone on the carrot top of hair.

Just as she reached her daughter, her hand closed over Merasaki's, Nyx took notice of Torn coming from the west wing. He looked as restless and tired as she and, instead of continuing on, she waited for him.

"Oh," he said when he saw her, coming out from the darkness. "Late night?"

A mockery of a smile touched Nyx's lips at his words. But she wasn't going to tell him about her problems with Nik. Torn was only here to survive and to see his people survive. "Late enough. You?"

"I was restless." Torn eyed the young woman before him. She was nearly a decade his junior and he had never been sure how to handle younger generations. "So, you're a soldier here?"

"Yes. Before I left for my mission on Sage-Harmona I was second-in-command of the armed forces here at the Holy City and before that—before I was reborn, I mean—I was a soldier in Sage-Harmona's army," she returned and watched as Torn relaxed, visibly.

_Good,_ Torn thought. Young or not, he knew how to handle soldiers. "I was surprised by your rigorous training courses here. And I was impressed."

"It was Gareth's idea. Gareth and later Nik."

"He's been doing a great job, Nikolas is. Especially for a solider-turned-commander." Torn shrugged one of his wiry shoulders, looking away. "I don't know if I'd be able to. I don't mind barking orders, but being involved in politics… not my cup of tea."

"Nor mine," Nyx agreed, ignoring that Nik had been mentioned. She really didn't want to bring him up.

There was an awkward silence between them. Nyx knew they both wanted to talk about Sage-Harmona—and the likelihood that it would win their upcoming battle—but no one was willing to speak such harsh truths.

"Mommy!" Merasaki shouted suddenly, breaking the silence. She wiggled in fingers in Nyx's grip. "Wanna go see Sedet!"

"One second, darling," Nyx told her and picked her up in her arms. Merasaki wrapped her arms around her neck and her legs around her waist, burying her bright head into the crook of Nyx's neck.

Torn had an odd look on his face. "You're very good with your daughter," he told her.

Surprised at the compliment, Nyx could only blink. "Thank you."

What she didn't know, of course, was that watching Nyx with Merasaki only reminded Torn of how he had been with Ryu. He never held the boy when he was tiny. He never showed Ryu any form of outward affection. It wasn't in his genetic makeup. At the time he had aquatinted it with his hard training as a soldier.

But if Nyx was just like him—strict and hard as solider—but still able to show affection and be kind and loving to her daughter then…?

Instead of telling her that, he merely said, "I think Sedet will make a good ruler." When the young woman and child continued to stare at him, Torn went on, "He's kind and brave and caring. He'll rule this city fine. He just needs to be a little more callous."

Realizing that her young prince was being complemented, Nyx managed a smile for him. "Thank you again. Torn…" She wanted to say something more. Something about the war and the battles that would be fought.

But she couldn't. She didn't want to admit to that yet. She wasn't ready.

With a shrug of understanding, Torn walked past them, aiming for the kitchens. Nyx stood in her place for a bit, merely watching him disappear. Merasaki, impatient, started to squirm relentlessly in her arms and Nyx held her daughter close against her, continuing her way down to Sedet.

The medical bay was starkly silent and pressed a feeling of cool aloofness onto her that had Nyx shivering. She dreaded to think how many days Sedet had spent in this room, surrounded by his sickly mother and the silence of darkness.

_He's just a little boy_, she thought with a wild surge of pain and anger. _What crime did he commit for such things? He doesn't deserve this. No one does. _

Sedet was curled into one of the chairs in the bay, beside his mother's bed. His head rested drowsily on his knees, but his eyes were open and on his mother's form. A vigil so silent and so deep that Nyx wanted to cry from it.

Instead, she placed Merasaki on her feet and sent the little girl racing after the boy.

"Sedet!" Merasaki cried gleefully, not halting when Sedet jerked in surprise at her voice. He stared at her silently as Merasaki threw herself into his arms, wiggling herself into his lap. "I missed you."

"Mera," was all he said and Nyx watched, biting her lip, as he wrapped his hands around her tiny back, clinging to her. Merasaki and Sedet had been through all this together and Sedet needed an anchor to desperately cling to.

"You need to play with me more, Sedet," Merasaki told him softly, pressing her face into the familiar curve of his neck. It was a happy reminder of how she used to cling to him before he was got distant and cold. "I missed you."

"I'm sorry." But he wasn't really. His mother needed him. And he had promised his father. But he never liked it when Mera cried. "I'll try to come more often, okay?"

With a look in her eyes that was years more mature than it should have been, Merasaki pointed out, "You won't though."

"Merasaki… I _have_ to stay with Momma. She _needs_ me. And I promised Daddy."

A smile worked its way on her tiny, girl lips. "I know. That's why I'm going to come to you." She lifted her hands and pressed them against the corners of his lips, lifting the skin up forcefully. "And you gotta smile more, okay?"

"Merasaki," he said again and then buried his head in her hair and started to cry. "I miss Momma! I miss Momma! And I miss Daddy!"

"Don't cry, don't cry!" was all Merasaki could manage.

Nyx watched them, nearly rushing to her daughter's side to help her with the little, broken boy. But she couldn't. Her feet were rooted to the ground and all she could do was watch as her daughter tried to soothe Sedet.

_He needs the cry_, was all she could think as Sedet's rasping sobs filled the air.

Then, with her back stiffening, she became aware of Nik's presence entering the room. She didn't dare move, hardly dared to breathe. And she couldn't look at him. She was too afraid to turn around and find he wasn't there.

Or worse, that he was looking past her again.

So she didn't turn to face him. She wrapped her arms around herself and silently went on watching her daughter and her prince. Nik would make the first move. He had to. She couldn't second-guess this.

But for the longest time, Nik only stood behind her in silence, his eyes on the children before them. He didn't touch her and Nyx nearly cried from the lack of contact.

Finally, though, he said, "Sedet needs to get out of here. It's going to eat him alive."

To which she could only answer in a soft voice, "I know."

Then the silence came back. Nik moved an inch closer, but said nothing more. Nyx got what was happening. He had opened the conversation. And now she had to make her move.

It was the most important move she ever had to make. She wasn't sure what to say to Nik. What would be safe to say to him. But she wasn't going to lie.

If she owed Nik anything, she owed him honesty. "I'm not sorry that I went to Sage-Harmona," she said, still not daring to look at him.

"I know," he said but his voice wasn't tight with anger or tension. It wasn't distant and cold. The emotions were thick in his voice and suddenly his presence became a warmth next to her.

She glanced over at her shoulder, peeking at him. In the darkness she couldn't read his face. It was cast in long, deep shadows. But his body was nearly relaxed. And she knew they were _finally_ getting somewhere.

"It was my duty," she continued on, her voice straining as she fought with her tears. "I had to go. For Sala. For Gareth. For the Holy City. For Merasaki. For you. I had to go to protect everything we loved."

"I know. Goddess, I know. I just… I just hated knowing that you were going to protect all of us and I had to let you go and—_damnit_—couldn't protect you."

Her eyes widened, but only slightly. Of course, she knew that it was in Nik's inherent nature to protect the things he loved. That was why he had risked brining Venn to her when he caught the desert disease. That was why he had defected to the Holy City. That was why he had been so mad when she went on the spy mission.

Because he had wanted to protect her.

"I miss you, Nik," she whispered softly, turning as the first tear spilled down her cheek. "So much."

He moved out of the shadows and even closer to her. She could see all the emotions in them now, swinging in thick, rich irises. It had been foolish of her to think of him as aloof and distant. He was just coming to terms with her safety.

"When we—me and Gareth—found out about… about who had done that to Sala." For a brief moment there was a dark, hungry rage on Nik's face. "When he found out it had been Sage-Harmona and that they were going to war I—I nearly _died_ knowing we sent you there. It was a war zone and we sent you there unprepared. I didn't—I thought I would die or do something stupid or that—that you would never come back to me… to us."

"Oh Nik…"

His hands encircled her waist and gently pulled her toward him. He buried his head into her hair. "_Nyx_… Goddess…"

She lifted her head and pressed his mouth hungrily against her lips, devouring the insides of her mouth with his tongue. She strained against him as much as she could in her position, lifting her arms backward and wrapping them around his neck.

As his fingers tightened around her thighs, Nyx understood that if it weren't for the presence of the two children, Nik would have likely taken her there, right on the floor of the medical bay. And it relieved her because that meant it would happen later, in their bedroom. And she desperately needed the connection, with him.

"I love you," he uttered against her lips, pulling away only when their lungs threatened to explode from the lack of oxygen. "Nyx…"

Words were almost too much in the state they were in, but she whispered the endearments right back as she brought his mouth down again for another kiss.

Merasaki watched them silently with Sedet, her body curled into his longer one. Her fingers clutched his shirt for leverage and when she looked up at the young boy-prince her eyes all right with a happiness that had been absent for too long.

"Perfect," she told him but Sedet only managed a half agreement. Sala was still unconscious and Gareth was still gone.

So it wasn't quite perfect. Not for him.

--&--

As the sky began to blue with the earliest set of dawn, Annityn began a sweep of their tiny encampment. It was a pointless effort she knew—what with Kiff Fire, her army, and Roid doing the same thing—but it was a habit she wasn't inclined to break.

Sometimes there were too many voices inside her head to stay still.

Eerie voices, something formed from her past. A past that the Mage and Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi had eradicated when they made her their prototype. She could only remember bits and flashes of that time before time, but it physically hurt her to remember them.

Most were just flashes of swirling hot sand and a woman's kind, tired face. But it was enough to make Annityn think that someone, at some time, had cared about her. Not her mother, she didn't think, but a kind person who had looked after her.

And it made her sick.

_Emotional stress often causes the human body to suffer psychological pain,_ she thought to herself, her mind robotic and monotonous even in her subconscious. _But the aforementioned emotions must be traumatizing and lasting. What I am feeling should not be considered emotional stress. I have no emotions. _

Then what was she feeling?

Roid said the Mage's magick would wear off and that the emotions that the Mage had buried deep within her would begin to resurface. Perhaps she was afraid of that, of having to deal with the emotions she had been free from all her life. But she couldn't be sure. She had never been afraid before.

Annityn suddenly understood what 'lost' felt like.

"Interesting," she mused softly to herself. "More research and data is needed."

The crunch of sand beneath her boots aroused several Metal Heads sleeping within the encampment. She felt their accusing eyes on her body and understood their anger. Yet none made a move to seek their vengeance upon her.

After all, Kiff Fire had given explicit orders.

The Girl was not to be harmed. She was, once again, an ally.

Her curtain of midnight black hair fell over her golden golem eyes. She, truthfully, didn't consider herself an ally to the Metal Heads. She was merely fighting for Cyren and that was all. It was because Cyren wished to work with them.

To everyone save Cyren she was emotionless and distant. Even to Cyren she felt only… 'protectiveness' she supposed—she honestly didn't know as she had never felt it before.

_Roid_…

Well, she felt something for Roid as well. Annityn understood that it was likely because he had seemed to be the one who accepted her most readily and who seemed to hold some feeling of fondness for her. He was… she wasn't sure what she would call Roid. Everything was too new to her.

Perhaps she would ask him about it later. Roid was always the one to help her decipher the new emotions that swarmed her blood. Maybe he could explain to her what their relationship to each other was.

Later. She would ask him later.

As always she checked on Cyren's tent first. She didn't go in—she understood that that would be breaching privacy—but merely stood just outside the flap and listened for any noise that would be out of place.

She heard the shuffle of Cyren as he packed his things. As predawn set in, nearly everyone in the encampment was up and preparing for the journey.

Satisfied there was nothing amiss with Cyren himself, she started a small parameter check. Jak's tent, Keira's, Aithne's, Maelia's, and Ryu's. Everyone was exactly as she perceived they needed to be.

Last she checked upon Crea and Venn. She had no worries for Crea's safety, or her betrayal. Crea was the least likely to cause Cyren harm, merely because it would be barring the Mage's path. Venn was unlikely as well, but she couldn't stop her ritual.

As she came back from her check up, she came upon Kiff Fire. The hulking Metal Head looked at her casually as Annityn walked closer. Annityn became aware, for the first time, that Kiff's presence was actually intimidating and only her repressed emotions had kept her from feeling that intimidation.

Now she was exposed to it and the only comfort she had was in the way the hilts of her daggers scrapped against the back of her knees.

"I see you have a name now," Kiff Fire observed casually, watching Annityn move slowly toward her.

"Yes. Annityn."

"That's a desert name," Kiff pointed out to Annityn, but she didn't say anything. Kiff shrugged her hulking shoulders. "Well, it's good then. Good that you got away from him, Hirmoyarbeshi."

"He is a… cruel man." Annityn frowned, glancing down at her hands as she flexed them. "I am a cruel… woman."

"From what I've gathered from Roid the choice was not yours," Kiff pointed out, not denying Annityn's statement, but not agreeing with it. "Then, when we first met, you had no free will. So were the actions yours?"

"I was aware of them. Killing at _his_ bidding, but I… did not think upon them. I was numb to all things save the will of he who was my Master," Annityn uttered softly, her voice still a carefully controlled monotone.

"Then are you truly cruel?"

"I do not know," Annityn admitted at last, glancing at Kiff Fire. "Just because I was not… exposed to the emotional consequences of my actions does not mean that I am not a cruel person. It is inherent."

"Then we shall see, won't we?" Kiff questioned softly, watching as Annityn kept her eyes cool and collected. "You'll have to decide who you are, Annityn."

At the sound of her new name, Annityn glanced up at the Metal Head's leader. "Yes. I will."

Then she turned and walked away, well aware that Kiff's dark Metal Head eyes followed her all the way.

--&--

Venn stood beside the horse that pulled the wagon of their little ragtag troupe. He stroked the mare's sweaty neck soothingly. Normally, he would have been astride the wagon, guiding it with the reins, but the mare was exhausted enough as it was. He didn't want to add to it with his weight.

Jak Mar was in the front, with Crea beside him.

_Crea_…

For a brief moment Venn's hand tightened over the cords on the mare's neck. The mare gave a small whiny of fright and tried to move away from him. Venn loosened his grip and murmured soothingly to the animal in his native tongue.

But he didn't take his eyes off Crea. He couldn't.

_Mind-raped. His face._ The thoughts swirled in Venn's head, heightening his anger to almost palpable proportions. This Mage had touched Crea—_his_ Crea—and had used his face to do it. Had made Venn, even if only for a moment, the bad guy.

And it killed him to know it. Killed him. That was why Crea had pulled away from him, why she had become distant and cold to him. His face had been the face she had seen moments before her mind-rape.

He, the idiot that he was, hadn't picked up on it.

Those feelings that he had somehow missed protecting her? Yeah, he sure as hell had. Some bastard had snuck into _his_ caravan, right under _his_ nose, taken _his_ face, and destroyed the Crea that had been his friend.

Right under his nose. Venn hadn't noticed a thing and it had been _his_ face that had mind-raped her.

_Goddess, every time she sees me she must have flashes,_ he thought in disgust. Disgust at himself. She had been telling not to get too close to her, not to touch her, and he had anyway. He had never figured that something so awful had been the reason behind her pulling away. He thought that with time and effort she would come around to see things his way again.

Obviously not and he wanted to hurt something. He had all but pushed himself on her and he looked like the guy who had raped her. _Hell_. He had as good as been the guy who had mind-raped. And he had been _jealous_.

Jealous of Jak Mar and the bond he had with Crea.

What right did he have? It was _his_ face that had made her destroyed and ruined beyond repair. _His face_. Whatever comfort Crea could get, she should grab and never let go of. He couldn't go around acting like some jealous husband. Because he wasn't.

Crea would never want him to touch her. And he couldn't blame her.

But that didn't stop him from feeling that tiny spurt of anger run up when Jak rubbed Crea's arm and murmured comforting words to her. Crea even managed a _smile_ and Venn couldn't remember the last time Crea had smiled at him.

Before she was mind-raped, at least.

_Damnit_.

He wanted to do something. Something for her. To comfort and hold and soothe her. To find some way to hold her without having her remember what it felt like when the Mage touched her. He just wanted to be with Crea.

That was all he ever wanted.

And, obviously, that just wasn't going to happen.

And the Mage would pay for that, Venn swore it. No matter what the cost Venn would get his hands on the bastard and make him pay for what he did to Crea. It was all he could do for her, but he would do it.

That old sonuvabitch was going to pay for touching _his_ Crea and using _his_ face to do it. Venn's people may have been peaceful ones, but that doesn't mean they didn't know their way around torture. In fact, Venn knew a few particularly nasty ones that he would love to try out on the Mage.

Hopefully, he could accomplish that when they reached the Holy City, which would be soon, he knew.

Crea glanced back at him and their eyes clashed. She glanced around, her body suddenly shaking and Venn felt like he was going to be sick to his stomach. She was thinking about the Mage and what he had done. That was what she thought about every time she looked at Venn.

Yes, he was going to be sick. The woman he loved was _terrified_ of him.

At his side, Venn's fingers curled into ready fists.

--&--

Night fell and the caravan halted. Jak had protested and everyone was well aware that the spirals of the Holy City's castle could be seen from their point.

But Crea had wanted to scout first and so she and Annityn had gone.

"I hate the desert," Maelia remarked and leaned against Ryu, both their backs reclining against the sturdy wheel of the wagon. Venn was off brooding while Roid was—per usual—keeping an eye on Aithne and Cyren.

Jak was scowling, but Maelia figured he did that a lot.

"Why?" Ryu asked and trailed a hand up her arm. It thrilled him that he could do this whenever he wanted. Just touch her, kiss her, whisper things into her ears. It would never stop amazing him.

"Because," Maelia uttered as she rubbed Ryu's leg with her foot. "We can't do _anything_."

"You're worse than a randy teenager," Ryu told her with a feral grin on his face. Glancing around, and making sure no one was paying too close attention, he slid Maelia into his lap.

"You might have noticed, I _am_ a randy teenager." She lowered her head so she could nibble at his neck. Then, grinning, she lifted her head. "Oh, I'm a _teenager_, is it? Last I checked you had me filed under 'little girl' category."

"Maelia," he answered in the sincerest voice he could muster. He lifted her hair away from her face so he could chew on her lip, "I haven't been thinking of you as a 'little girl' since you hit puberty."

"Really?" She grinned down at him, wiggling her hips that had him all but rolling his eyes back. "But all those boyfriends I kept just to make you jealous—"

"I _was_ insanely jealous," he countered and closed his mouth fully against hers. "I just never showed it. But, believe me, I had murdered every single one of them with my bare hands… in my mind."

"That's nothing compared to what I did to your girlfriends… in my mind." She grinned merrily at him, pinching his cheeks. "But we women are a lot more vindictive than you. Plus, we're more cunning."

"Mmm," Ryu mumbled but he was more interested claiming Maelia's mouth. She moaned at the back of her throat and floated into the kiss, gripping his shoulders as her balance was thrown.

"Boy," she managed when they broke, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Too bad we don't have the tents set up or anything or I'd think we could sneak away for a bit and no one would notice.'

"Too bad," Ryu agreed frowning. Mostly because the image—_it would have to be fast, hard, and wild_—was such a great one that it irritated him that they couldn't do it.

"You know," Maelia continued on huskily, leaning down to pressed her lips against his ear. "We could always…"

Not far from them, Aithne called, "Annityn!"

"Never mind," Maelia mumbled as she slid from Ryu's lap.

"Oh, you're finishing that thought," Ryu warned her and then helped her to her feet. On a second thought, and a wild grin, he caged her against the wagon's body and kissed hard and fast. "So you don't forget."

"Whoa." Like she would.

Hand-in-hand, they walked to where Aithne and Cyren waved back to Crea and Annityn. The rest of their little rag-tag group had assembled as well. Jak, Roid, and Venn. The Metal Heads were, as always, off at some distance with Kiff Fire watching in the foreground.

Maelia still wasn't sure what to make of the hulking Metal Head. But she hadn't made a move against any of the humans and Maelia supposed she was a real ally.

Still, Ryu was always sure to put his body in front of hers whenever they were close to them.

Things were changing so rapidly before her. Enemies were now her allies. She was finally with Ryu. She was finally loved. And this happened in the course of a few weeks. And it amazed her.

_Daddy…_ she thought and tightened her hold on Ryu's hand. He glanced at her but said nothing, knowing very well where her mind had wandered off to.

No matter how happy she was, she couldn't forget that she still didn't have her father's love. The one thing she wanted more than anything. She had yearned for years and years, just hoping for a glimmer of his affection.

But Daxter was as silent as stone to her and Maelia knew, deep in the pit of her stomach, that her father would never love her. He could be incapable of it, because of what happened to Lee. Because he lost so much of himself with Lee.

It hurt, thinking and finally admitting it to herself. But Ryu's hand was solid and warm in her own and she knew she could do it now. She could admit the truth to herself.

She couldn't wait for Daxter forever.

"I'm done," she breathed, glancing up at Ryu as he looked down. "Waiting for my father. I'm not going to hate myself because he can't love me."

Ryu stopped and brought her into his arms, gently kissing her mouth, nearly smiling. "Good," he told her and let her go.

"But," she said so softly that for a moment he doubted her heard her. "That doesn't mean I still won't."

He tightened his hold on her hand.

"The whole place is surrounded by Sage-Harmona forces," Crea snapped as she approached Jak. She sent him a disgusted look. "No way in."

"And it's very likely that by now the Mage has informed Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi of my betrayal and the escape of Keira Hagai-Mar," Annityn added. "He is most likely waiting for us."

"What are the chances that we can sneak in unnoticed?" Jak wanted to know.

"25 to 1."

Jak sent Annityn a look. "Yeah, thanks."

"There has to be a way," Crea added, careful to avoid looking at Venn as he came into the small circle they had created. "We can't just wait out here, sitting on our hands."

"But how?" Aithne asked. "I mean, do _you_ have a plan for getting in?"

"No. But I'll think of something." Crea turned away from the group, furrowing her brow in concentration. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

Suddenly, Annityn tensed and whirled around, a dagger already expertly held in her hand. "Identify yourself," she said.

It was a tall figure dressed in a dark, tattered cloak. A hand moved to push back the hood of the cloak but Crea didn't seem too eager to wait that long. Crea gave a small battle cry and lunged at the cloaked figure.

Annityn sheathed her dagger.

* * *

**notes:** I've begun to notice that I offset the sad with the happy Maelia-Ryu-make-out-all-the-time… but that's okay. Everyone's so screw up we _need_ Maelia and Ryu having teenage make-out sessions. If they don't spread the love, who will?

**Act XXI:** we're finally back in the Holy City, which means awkward reunions abound, and then people are separated… _again_

**reviews**

**Carree:** yeah, I know. Sometimes time seems to elude me so well, and I've got speech class. Did I mention speech class? That class frustrations me so much with its narrow-minded way. They can take their "in conclusion" and shove it up their asses. I want creativity! And then I made you wait for the filler chapter. I can be a real awful person, can't I?

**Specter Von Baren:** I truly have no fear when it comes to killing off masses and masses of OCs. After all, they're _mine_, aren't they? I can impale them into pikes if I want to! And I've got something coming that even _you_ might not see happening. XD

**Xazz:** I have to admit, while I appreciate everything allows fanfiction writers to do… it is tedious to find a few decent fics in the lot. And then some don't even get finished! But this is going strong and while you may feel the need to kick a few characters in the last part, more good is coming!

**ForestWalker:** Jak and Daxter _will_ meet. That I promise you. Everything else… I make none. I'm also keeping my mouth shut when it comes to alter-ego Jaks, because I'm evil. XD As far Renegade Jak goes, I dunno if Jak would be too keen on having his daughter know about his sordid path… well, I mean, everyone knows that Jak took down Baron Praxis and that he was at one time enemy of the state, but as for gun-for-hire I think that's something Jak would keep close to the belt

**AngelSilentWind:** …glad… wow, I can't remember a time when anyone was glad to wait. We're such an instant gratification culture. But hopefully, you won't have to wait _that_ long!

**Darkening Light:** I like to think Jak IV is a good example of proper angst and emotion, not the stuff we see today, like emokid angst when they like having nothing to be angsting about. I'm looking at you, _CLOUD_… sorry, my sister made me watch _Advent Children_ again and… God, wasn't that good of a game…

**ChatterBox101:** yes, Keira's going to wake up. I can't just leave her hanging around there. I tend to show the side to every story, no matter what I'm doing, which tends to make people more complicated then they normally would be… which is why you're on both Nik and Nyx's side, if that's possible


	21. The Grateful Dead

**Disclaimer:** like no way man

**Author's Note:** omg! It's time again! Alright the papers! No… seriously. Do it. Right now.

**warning(s):** ah, we're getting there!

* * *

** Act XXI: The Grateful Dead **

Aithne moved to help Crea, her hands locked around her sais even before she knew what she was doing. Later, she would think since Annityn had made no move to attack it hadn't been a threat.

Annityn had a weird sixth sense about these things.

But Crea had been high strung ever since coming back from scouting around the Holy City and Aithne knew—knew very well—that Crea was likely just itching for a confrontation. Something to loosen all her pent-up emotions.

She knew the feeling very well.

"Wait!" Cyren called and snagged Aithne's arm when she would have gone into the fray. "I don't think this is our enemy."

Crea wasn't listening to that, of course. She hit the man hard, and though he was taller and wider than her, she had them both barreling to the ground. Surprisingly though, she didn't reach for her gun, instead she plowed her knees into the cloaked man's gut and cursed profusely when he flipped her onto her back.

"Wait," Annityn commanded when Venn moved, heat and rage flashing into his eyes. "He is not our enemy."

"Mind telling Crea that?" Venn snarled, crossing his arms over his chest and not liking the events that unfolded.

Snarling, Crea pressed her feet into the man's stomach and pushed him off her, leaping to her knees so she could swing her arm around for one good punch. Only the man lifted his arm and caught her wrist, holding it in a viselike grip.

"Crea?" the man said suddenly, his voice a little hoarse from disuse and laden with surprise. Crea and the man's face were close enough to be touching. The man used his free hand to push his hood away.

With a gasp, Crea jerked away from him.

The man was likely near Jak's age and had a short crop of dark hair around his forehead, with streaks of dark crimson running along the bangs and edges. And though he looked haggard and put out, Aithne noted there seemed to be a regal presence about him. His dark blue eyes were sharp as they honed in on Crea.

"Gareth…" she breathed.

"Gareth?" Jak said immediately after, his own eyes a little wide in recognition. "Is that really you?"

"Jak?"

With a small oof, Gareth pushed himself to his feet, wiping at his pants. His dark hair whipped around his face in the wind and his eyes were narrowed at Jak as if trying to make him disappear.

When Jak didn't and merely remained where he was, Gareth approached him, outstretching a hand. Jak blinked for a moment, staring hard at Gareth and then placed his hand in the other man's.

"My Goddess," Gareth breathed, tightening his grip on Jak's hand. "I thought I made you up. You're not dead, after all."

"No." Jak sent Gareth a measuring look as they pulled their arms back. "No thanks to those gods of yours."

"What?"

"Gareth…" Crea breathed, looking just as shocked and confused as she had when she first realized who it was she had attacked. "What are you doing here?"

"Crea." With relief evident in his eyes, Gareth brought the younger blonde woman into his arms. For a moment, Crea stiffening in his grasp but slowly relaxed and managed to hold him back. "It's so good to see you, Crea."

Venn, catching his snarl before it left his lips, looked away.

"Gareth, what are you doing here?" Crea repeated as she pulled away, looking down at the man who had been, for a time, like a father to her.

Gareth's face darkened. "It's Sala, Crea. I left the Holy City because she got sick. Really sick and I had to find a cure for her." He gave a large laboring breath and looked off toward his city glowing in the distance. "She fell in a deep sleep, has been since I left."

"Asleep?" Jak demanded, thinking of Keira. "Keira… she's like that, too. It was something Sage-Harmona did to her. Some kind of experiment, I think."

"It was poison for us," Gareth answered, blinking at Jak. Looking at the ragtag group assembled before them, Gareth explained everything that had happened. From Sage-Harmona's shift into a totalitarian city, to Nyx's journey to spy on them, to Sala's sickness, his journey to find a cure, and his return to the Holy City.

Cyren grew pale with sickness as he thought of how much damage his city had caused. His city, his by blood, had destroyed lives and crumbled cities.

Aithne leaned in toward him and gripped his hand in her own, offering her support. And Cyren was weak enough to realize he needed it. Needed whatever she was willing to give him.

Suddenly, he knew he couldn't do this on his own.

"Sage-Harmona poisoned your wife?" Venn spoke up suddenly, frowning thoughtfully as Gareth nodded. "Do you know what kind?"

"An old kind of poison," Gareth answered cautiously, narrowing his eyes at the younger man. "I was told it was used during Sage-Harmona's prime as a weapon to rid themselves of the desert tribes."

"I know the cure," Venn told him softly and Gareth dropped all pretenses of caution, stepping toward him with hope burning bright in his eyes.

"You do? You could cure Sala?" With a deep sigh, he studied Venn. "You… remind me of someone… the second-in-command at the Holy City. Nikolas Mandrake. You look a lot alike."

"We're brothers," Venn replied and glanced over at Crea. Their eyes met for a moment before Crea looked away, a curtain of blonde hair covering her eyes. "Get me to your wife and I'll see what I can do."

"Good. I've been studying Sage-Harmona's army for days," Gareth said, inclining his head toward the city. "They're lax during the late hours of the night. That's the best time to sneak in. But we'll have to abandon your wagon."

"No problem," Venn replied and turned to everyone before him. "Okay, carry what you need and we'll leave everything else behind."

From the shadows Roid said, "I'll inform Kiff Fire of our movements. It is probably for the best that she waits out in the desert instead of going into the city. We wouldn't want to cause a panic." Without saying anything else, Roid quickly disappeared into the darkness.

Gareth stared after him, his eyes wide, "Isn't that a—"

"Roid is a loyal companion," Cyren put in instantly, knowing very well the distrusting look that appeared in Gareth's eyes. "He saved us in Haven City and got us into and out of Sage-Harmona when we went to rescue Mrs. Mar."

For the first time Gareth took note of the boy beside the girl he recognized as Jak Mar's daughter. Something about his tall, lanky frame and starkly platinum hair made a tickling sensation of recognition dance at his spine.

"And you are?" Gareth asked of Cyren, trying to place exactly where the boy was in his memories. He could barely grasp it, but he knew he had seen the boy before. Or seen someone like him.

"We do not have the time," Annityn pointed out calmly as the wind ruffled her long, jet locks. "Such things are better explained once we have entered the Holy City."

Glancing over at her, Gareth shuddered. Though he hadn't given her much thought when he had first seen their group, he had to admit that there was something eerily _off_ about her that put him on edge.

"I'm going to get Keira," Jak answered and turned away.

"I'm going with you," Gareth replied and Jak gave him a tight nod. Once upon a time, Gareth had been engaged to Keira and he had always been duty-bound to protect her. Keira was a descendant of the Goddess, the Goddess who had created Gareth's city. Gareth's loyalty to Keira fell only behind the Holy City and his family.

Silently, Gareth followed Jak to the wagon that Keira rested in. They both stepped up and into it. Jak collected Keira while Gareth frowned slightly at him.

"So why aren't you dead?" Gareth asked suddenly, watching as Jak smoothed a hand along Keira's hot, pale forehead. "Everyone heard that you were."

Instead of answering, Jak merely asked, "What do you know of Lokin?"

"Lokin?" Thrown momentarily off balance by the question, Gareth could only blink. "He's the trickster god, brother to the Goddess, and one of the lesser gods. He was worshipped mainly in the desert clans before Dianadina became the prevalent goddess. Nothing important."

"Nothing important, huh?" Jak questioned as he ran his thumb down his silvery palm. "I had a debt to pay to the god and it's taken me seventeen years to get even close to repaying it."

Anyone else would have questioned Jak's sanity. But not Gareth. And not merely because in his world gods commanding mortals was a normal thing but because this was Jak Mar and no one was more sane and more in control than Jak Mar.

"How do you get in debt to the trickster god?" Gareth questioned. He slid out of the wagon and opened his arms for Keira so Jak could climb out. Gareth was a little unnerved at how hot to the touch Keira was but he didn't dare let Jak know.

"He helped me beat Eris." When Gareth continued to stare at him, Jak went on, "That day, when Keira went up against Erisen and I came to help, there was no way for us to win. I'm too corrupt by Dark Eco to wield the Virgae-Mors sword properly. Lokin helped me find the strength to do so."

"And your debt? What did you have to do for Lokin to take you so long?"

"I had to hone my powers," Jak replied, hopping out of the wagon and shifting Keira onto his back. "When Lokin first told me about his plan, it sounded real simple. Real quick. Go in and get it done. But it hasn't been. It's taken seventeen years."

Gareth nearly asked Jak what exactly this 'plan' was but the guarded look in Jak's dark blue eyes told him that the question wouldn't be answered. With a small sigh, he pushed it to the back of his mind.

The others were waiting for them when they finally arrived. Gareth even noticed the Metal Head Roid had returned from talking to this 'Kiff Fire' person. He could only assume it was another Metal Head and—if it was—he was relieved that Roid had been wise enough to tell Kiff to remain outside the Holy City walls.

The people of the Holy City may not hold a grudge against the Metal Heads like Haven City did, but they were still wary of them.

Quietly, Annityn took the lead. Gareth stood beside Jak as the blonde hero carried Keira piggyback. Venn went up with Annityn and Roid while Crea hovered a little nervously to the side. Cyren and Aithne were side-by-side with Ryu and Maelia and every single one of them had weapons out.

"Soldiers," Annityn intoned and motioned them to wait. Stealthily, Annityn slipped into and made her way to two soldiers patrolling the wall.

Unable to look away, Gareth watched as she took them down in avid fascination. She moved wicked fast, her dagger flying into one of the soldier's spine even before he cried out. She kicked his legs out from under him and flipped him onto his stomach, using the leverage to lunge at the second soldier, her feet catching around his neck and slamming into the ground.

There was a snap. Gareth could hear it even from the distance they were standing and Annityn stood, glancing down at the soldier, whose neck she had just broken. Then she grabbed her second dagger and gave the gasping second soldier a swifter death.

"She's amazing," Gareth breathed as they slowly approached Annityn as she sheathed her weapons.

Annityn glanced over at Roid, an unreadable but odd look on her face. Then she turned away. "We should be able to sneak in now. I see no more soldiers."

A brief look of concern came across Roid's face before he nodded.

Silently, Gareth took the lead and led them into the Holy City, surprised when there was no more resistance. _Dead soldiers or not_, Gareth thought, _someone should have seen us. What is Kent-Sai planning? Or is he that confident? _

With a small shake of his head, Gareth decided it didn't matter. The Holy City palace was before him and there was a clear road to him and it. He could finally reach Sala. Not only would he be able to return but he would return with a cure.

"Once we get to the palace we head immediately for the medical ward. Sala needs that medicine fast and Keira needs to be laying down," he commanded softly, not waiting to see if the others agreed. He was the king of this city, after all, and his words were law even if he wasn't too keen on giving them out.

Silently they followed him through the winding, dirt roads of the Holy City. Gareth frowned a little as he saw no guard patrolling the palace, and decided he would take it up with Nik immediately.

Or, after he got to Sala.

Moonlight filtered into the darkened medical ward. Gareth held his breath, listening intently for the sound of the deep-even breathing of Sala. He expelled a sigh of relief when it reached him.

"This way," he ordered and shoved aside the curtain blocking Sala from view. Jak moved beside him, placing Keira in the adjacent bed.

As tenderly as he could manage, Gareth drew a finger tip down Sala's smooth, pale cheek. Sala made no movement save for the rise and fall of her chest. For a long moment, Gareth fought the rage before turning to the others.

"Venn," he called.

The rest waited.

--&--

Crea situated herself just outside the medical ward. Partly because she couldn't stand seeing Sala—who had always been strong and like a mother to her—so weak and pale. But also because she couldn't stand being so close to Venn anymore.

It was eating at her. Everything between them had changed.

Expelling a weak breath, she slid down the wall and sat. Aithne, Maelia, Ryu, and Cyren had all collapsed against the wall opposite her, fast asleep. Though none of them were touching in their sleep, Crea sensed the bound between them and she thought she understood.

They were the next generation.

A tingling sensation attacked her stomach and Crea rubbed absently at it. It felt so surreal to be back in the place she once considered home. Where she had been innocent—albeit _odd_—and hadn't known the things she knew today.

The knowing, she supposed, was a normal part of growing up, but the way she had been forced to grow had not been normal.

As if the Mage was near her, Crea's skin crawled.

What was she going to be when she saw Nyx again? The reunion was going to happen, there was no way to avoid it. But how would she explain to Nyx what had happened? Why she was so cold?

She couldn't, wouldn't, tell Nyx the awful truth. Wouldn't tell her about the Mage. But she would have to tell her something. Her sister would want an explanation. No, she would demand it.

"Crea?"

Jak slid down beside her, his head reclining against the wall for a moment. Crea glanced over at him, bringing her knees to her chest. Jak's eyes were on the slim form of his daughter as she slid her head onto Cyren's shoulder.

"She needs time," Crea told him softly.

"I know," Jak returned on a long sigh. "I—I'm trying to. Give her space. Give her time. But she—she's my _daughter_, Crea. I just wanted to know what that felt like. To have a daughter."

"I'm sorry," she said and meant it.

The blonde hero looked over at her then and blinked, his eyes narrowed in the darkness. Crea suddenly felt the intensity of his gaze.

"What happened to you?" Jak wanted to know, his hand moving up to touch her shoulder. A shudder ran through Crea at the touch, but she didn't pull away. This was _Jak_. Jak Mar. "What made you so cold?"

"I died," Crea replied.

It felt like her heart was breaking, ripping up in her chest. Her throat was clamoring for tears, but her body had none to give and she could do nothing more but stare blankly off into the distance as she warred within herself.

Saying nothing, Jak brought her into his arms. Crea turned her head onto his shoulder and fought the burning in her chest. She couldn't relax in his grip, but the familiar touch eased her pain slightly. And that was more than enough.

Then the image of Venn swarmed in her head for one blissful moment the woman she could have been sighed his name in longing.

Heartsick, Crea slackened against Jak.

--&--

Venn worked fast and quietly. A small line of sweat bubbled along his brow as his dark eyes narrowed down at Sale of Rye's limp form. His body radiated the level of his concentration.

He had seen this sickness before, of course. It had plagued his tribe when he had been a child and had taken his father from him. Venn, himself, had almost been lost to the disease, but only Nik had intervened, bringing him to Nyx and a cure.

And nearly ruining their relationship while he was at it.

With a half-frown he shook the thought off. He had things that needed his full concentration.

His hand skimmed butterfly-soft along Sala's skin. He stopped at certain places on her body—her stomach, her wrists, her thighs—and his lips were constantly moving with an ancient incantation that connected him to her blood stream.

Well aware of Gareth's hopeful eyes Venn slid his hand up to Sala's throat, pressing his fingers a little harder into the smooth column. Sweat rolled down his hand and onto her neck. The hot flow of blood reached his ears and he listened quietly to the sounds the disease made in the queen's body.

After several moments of holding the position, Venn drew back from the queen's body and glanced at her husband.

"She should be fine," Venn informed the man and watched Gareth expel a breath. "I'll need your healers down here immediately to help with the potion, but as long as I can get it to her before tomorrow night she'll heal."

"Thank you," Gareth said, reaching out to grip Venn's hand in a hearty shake. "I owe you more than I can ever repay."

"No problem." Venn just wished Crea was that easy to appease.

With a nod to Venn, Gareth turned to fetch the healers. His heart brimmed with hope as he stepped out into the hall. Crea and Jak were a silent, dark mass in one of the corners and the four youths of the group had fallen asleep. Roid and Annityn were no where to be seen, but he suspected they weren't far from their charge.

But right now that wasn't on Gareth's mind. He needed to find Venn the healers and get them to work on Sala's cure immediately. The thought of holding his wife again sent pleasure up his spine and he broke out into a run toward the healers' sleeping chambers.

And all but crashed into the little form that streaked across the hallway.

As it was, they both went tumbling, Gareth's hand spread out across the ground the only thing keeping him from crushing the tiny creature. There was a small, frightened sniffle as Gareth lifted himself up.

Moonlight slanted across the familiar face just as it slanted across his own.

"Sedet?"

"Daddy?"

Next thing Gareth knew he had his son in his arms and was hugging the little body hard against him. It was his son and it was wonderful. It felt like his son and sobbed like his son. Pleasure bloomed so fully in Gareth's chest he couldn't breathe.

Sedet had his heard buried against Gareth's sure, the material muffling the boy's deep-throated sobs. His tiny fingers clawed at the fabric on his chest. That tiny body that Gareth had missed for so long trembled with happiness and grief.

"You're alright?" Gareth asked as he drew back, cupping his son's cheeks to look him square in the eye. "Sedet?"

The young boy sniffled, using his sleeve to wipe the underside of his nose, nodding as he did so. "I—I tried to be strong. Like you said, Daddy. But I couldn't. I'm not strong like you."

"Don't say that," Gareth commanded softly and managed a smile for his son. He stood on suddenly shaking legs and carried Sedet back to the medical ward. "You're the bravest person I know."

For an answer, Sedet merely buried his head against his father's shoulder once more.

"You're going to be a fine man, one day," Gareth breathed as he approached Venn, still muttering over Sala. "Sedet, this is Venn. He's going to heal Mommy for us. I need you to stay out of his way while I go get the healers to help him."

Sedet slid out of his father's arms and approached Venn, his young eyes narrowed slightly. "Can you really save Mommy?" he wanted to know.

"I'm going to do my best," Venn solemnly promised, managing brief smile before his face was smoothed back down into a frown and the muttering resumed. Sedet curled himself into a ball on a chair beside him, his eyes never leaving Venn's form.

Gareth lingered only long enough to ruffle Sedet's hair lovingly. Then he went to find the Mages and save his wife.

--&--

Moonlight slanted through the bedroom window and the blanket only half-successfully covered her body. Nyx yawned and shifted closer into the crook of Nik's arm, absorbing his warmth into her body. Nik murmured in his light sleep and dropped a kiss onto her head.

She was tingling all the way down to her toes and it felt wonderful. Being with Nik once more felt like being whole. She wanted the night to stretch on endlessly and just be them two, together and wrapped up in each other.

But she knew it was a pipedream and, as if to prove it, the door to their bedroom flew open.

Nik snapped upward, already cursing the soldier who barged into their personal quarters. The sergeant's face went beat red at the sight and then deathly pale at Nik's glare as he pulled the blanket up over to Nyx's exposed torso.

"This," Nik growled, his teeth nearly grinding. "Had better be good, soldier."

"I—it is, sir!" the soldier was quick to assure him, hastily yanking his eyes away from Nyx's form as she lifted herself off the bed, the blanket covering her.

"Well?" Nik demanded, shifting in front of Nyx. "We're waiting."

"Lord Gareth's returned!" the young man shouted as quickly as he could. He took a deep breath and continued. "Lord Gareth has returned to the city with the cure for Lady Sala. He's with the Mages and our queen now."

"Gareth," Nyx breathed in pure joy, realizing then how acutely she had been missing the man who had been like a father to her, despite their relatively close ages.

Happy that the news had been delivered and he still had his head, the sergeant quickly exited. Nyx gave Nik a wide grin of excitement and swung herself onto her feet, the blanket fell from her body as she made a beeline to the door.

"Nyx!" Nik scrambled after her, surprised and horrified that his strict, military wife had apparently forgotten that she was racing to the door and into the hallways stark nude. "Clothes!"

Nyx halted and blinked. "Oh. Where are they?" Without waiting for an answer, she began to pick up the clothes that had been strewn across the floor, tossing Nik's to him whenever she picked them up. "Will you get Merasaki?"

Hastily doing up his pants, Nik nodded. "Alright. No streaking." He kissed her head as she retrieved her last missing item and hurried out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, a fully-clothed Nyx, a sleepy Merasaki, and an alert Nik hustled down to the medical ward. Merasaki mumbled tiredly in her sleep, wiping wearily at her eyes as her chin was jostled on her father's shoulders.

Lights had been turned on in the medical ward and they burned bright and magical. The bright glint illuminated the empty beds of the ward as well as the Mages—old men decked out in prayer robes—hovered over Sala's bed.

"Sedet!" Merasaki cried suddenly, wriggling out of her father's arms and onto the floor. She hurried over to the prince pushed into the corner of the medical ward, his body curled into a small ball on a chair. "Your daddy's back!"

"I know. He's gonna save Mommy," Sedet answered solemnly, but relief shown clearly in his eyes and in his smile. He grabbed Merasaki's wrist and helped into the seat with him, his eyes drifting back toward the bed where his mother rest.

"Who are they, you think?" Nik murmured against her ear as he bent down beside her. His eyes were on the forms off to the side of the room, curled up on the empty floor. There were four of them and they were all young. A green-haired girl was curled up on a white-haired boy as they slept on the floor. Another girl was beside them, her back brushing the other girl's side, and was nestled against an auburn-haired boy's chest.

All she could do was shrug. Nyx had other concerns at the moment, like reuniting with Gareth. "Maybe Gareth picked them up in the desert."

As their feet approached the bed the Mages hovered over, they parted like the red sea. Nyx nodded to each of them and approached Sala's still limp and pale form resting peacefully on the bed.

Except, this time there were three figured standing behind the bed.

By her side, Nik went deadly quiet. He didn't look at the Mages as they divided themselves between the two beds that had been revealed. His eyes were locked on the dark-haired boy at the head of the bed which hosted Sala.

Of course, Nyx barely acknowledged him. Not when she recognized all the people _beside_ him.

She suddenly found it hard to take everything in. At the back of her mind she recognized the figure on the second bed the Mages had also been hovering over, just beside Sala's, as Keira Hagai-Mar.

But she was distracted. There was Gareth, standing before a dark-haired boy as he ran his hands over Sala's body, his finger's coated in a waxy substance. Sala's whole body appeared to be covered in it—her bare arms and legs, her face—and she seemed to glint in the light.

"Jak…?" Nyx breathed, recognizing instantly who was beside Gareth. Jak was almost exactly like she remembered, just a bit older. He was still blonde and a little on the short side. And his face was still rough and battle-ready and hard.

He looked weary. Nyx recognized the look instantly. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as Jak raised his eyes and looked at her.

It was then Nyx remembered that Jak should be dead. _How in the world…? _

And then she couldn't think anymore.

It was Crea. Crea with her long blonde hair flowing down easily to her face, her mouth frowning with seriousness, and her sleek, smooth body hovering at the foot of Sala's hand, her fingers inched above the queen's leg.

"Crea!" Nyx cried and rushed forward, sending up her thanks to the Goddess for bringing her wayward sister home.

Nearly sobbing, Nyx brought Crea into her arms. She was so relieved to see her younger sister again, Nyx didn't notice the way Crea stiffened. All Nyx could think was that Crea had finally come home and all she could do was press a shaky kiss to Crea's head.

"Oh, Crea, oh Crea!" she muttered as she buried her face into her sister's soft hair. Nyx had never been so open with affection before, and she wouldn't ever again, but she couldn't stop the happiness that overwhelmed her as she held her sister again for the first time in over a decade. "I missed you. I missed you."

Crea said nothing, merely inclined her head toward Nik, who had his eyes locked on Venn's furiously working body. Crea doubted Venn was even aware of his half-brother's presence just yet. The minute the Mages had arrived in the medical ward, Venn had gotten to work on concocting the antidote to Sala's illness.

"Crea?" Nyx immediately sensed something was wrong with her sister. Her body was too cold and there was no happy greeting from her. She drew back from the embrace to look into Crea's eyes and they were so _cold_ she nearly shivered. "What happened?"

Instantly, Crea looked away. "Nothing."

"Nyx! I'm glad you're okay," Gareth interrupted and had Nyx in his arms so Crea could escape. He squeezed her hard between his arms.

Nyx didn't want to let her sister alone with what was bothering her. She wanted to talk to her, catch up, on things. So many things. There were so many things she needed to know. She turned her head to find Crea and saw that the blonde girl had faded into the background.

"There. Finished," Venn announced suddenly, wiping his hands across his pants. He glanced over at the Mage closest on his left and rapped the man lightly on the shoulder. "We did good work. Really good work. The queen should be fine no…"

The dark-haired, desert man trailed off as Nik approached and locked eyes with him. Everything in the room seemed to still for a long, tense moment. Then the dark-haired boy and Nik inclined their heads at the same time.

"Venn," Nik greeted, his voice taking on a small hint of coolness.

"Nik," was the equally aloof reply.

_Venn?_ Nyx thought, blinking. Yes, she could see it now. Nik and Venn shared a similar face—a gift from their father. Venn's midnight-black hair even had small streaks of red in them.

Could this really be Nik's half-brother? The one that had caused—albeit unintentionally—the rift between Nik and herself. Oddly enough, though she knew this was the man Crea had been searching for, he had never been anything to her mind and fantasies other than a sickly boy.

But that wasn't this Venn. This Venn was strong, capable. She could see it in his eyes. A line of sweat clotted along his brow, but he made no move to remove it. His fingers were pressed to either side of Sala's head.

_He was curing Sala,_ Nyx realized with a jolt and averted her eyes quickly. Of course, as luck would have it, they immediately landed on Jak Mar's.

"Jak," she breathed and Nik tore his gaze away from Venn's.

Jak Mar's top lip lifted sardonically. "Hey, Nyx," he greeted.

It was Jak Mar. Nyx hadn't been imaging as her mind had first believed. Now she understood that he was truly here, in the flesh. He didn't look all that different then she remembered him. Older, of course, but virtually the same. He was still scowling, nasty Jak Mar.

And that meant…

"Keira!?" she wheeled around, this time fully comprehending what she saw on the bed.

The Mage working on her lifted his head. "She had dark eco in her system, Commander, but we're removing it and healing her. She'll be out for a few more days, though." With that said, the Mage went back to his work.

"What—how—"

"Nyx," Nik began, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's—"

"Sage-Harmona," Nyx finished for him before turning back to Jak. Everything felt fuzzy and surreal around her and she vaguely heard herself saying, "I thought you were dead. Killed by Metal Heads."

"No. And, trust me, you don't want to know what I was doing." Jak's face flashed briefly with annoyance, but he controlled it. He had already accepted that everyone was going to make the same remark when they saw him.

And they were going to be seeing him soon.

"No," Nyx protested instantly, approaching him. "I think I do."

Gareth intercepted her, stepping in her way. "This shocks us all, Nyx, but Jak has his reasons and, no matter how confusing this is, we need all the help we can get." Gareth lifted his hands and pressed them to her shoulders. "We're in the middle of a war, one wrong move, one hesitation, could result in the death of us all."

She wasn't pleased with the answer and she didn't break her contact with Jak's eyes. But Gareth was right. No matter how shocking Jak's sudden reappearance was to her, it didn't change the fact that she was in the middle of war.

Some questions just had to wait.

Expelling a breath, she nodded. "Alright. It's good you're alive, Jak. But the people form Haven City, they won't accept it like I do."

"Who survived?" Jak demanded.

"Your leader, Ashelin, and her husband Torn. Daxter and his wife and a couple hundred survivors," she answered. "But not nearly enough to wage war on Sage-Harmona. You know that."

"I might be able to help," spoke up a new voice.

All of them turned to see the four youths had awakened from their prone positions on the bed. But it was the white-haired blonde that had spoken.

There was a tickle of familiarity at the back of Nye's neck.

"And you are?" she asked.

"Cyren Yoshimoro," the blonde answered without hesitation, his hand moving to his neck to slip out a small, silver disk from under his shirt.

"Yoshimoro!?"

"As in the Yoshimoros of Sage-Harmona?" Nik demanded, his own eyes widened with surprise, a rarity for the man.

This Cyren merely nodded. "The former top general of Sage-Harmona, Zen-Fai, hid me away from Hirmoyarbeshi."

"That—that's amazing," Nyx admitted slowly, wishing she could lower herself into a chair and take deep, calming breathes. But she couldn't and she remained strong and standing. "But I don't see how that would help us with Sage-Harmona _now_. Everyone still follows General Hirmoyarbeshi."

"That's not quiet true."

Again a new voice entered the conversation. But the body the voice belonged to caused a near panic of the room. The Mages yelped and lunged forward, barring both Sala and Keira from view. Nik ordered Merasaki and Sedet harshly over to him as he drew out a sword he had clipped automatically to his side earlier. Nyx followed his example as she shifted the two children behind her legs.

"He's not dangerous," answered the girl who strangely resembled Keira Hagai-Mar. "This is Roid and that's Annityn. Their Cyren's protectors now that Zen-Fai is dead."

Very lowly, so no one else could hear, Jak muttered to her, "That's Aithne. My daughter."

"I mean you know harm," the Metal Head Roid said as he approached them. His feet were braced cautiously and his claws were out in a sign of peace.

"Forgive us if that's hard to believe," Nik was quick to answer, glancing over at Nyx. "But we haven't heard too well of your kind."

"The ones that you have heard of were indeed your enemies. But no longer." Roid glanced around the room, shrugging his shoulders, his wings fluttering once against his side. "We enter a new era."

"We don't have time," Jak put in impatiently. "Sage-Harmona _isn't_ going to wait. We need to have a meeting and plan our offensive."

"Jak's right. Nyx, wake everyone else up." Gareth glanced over at Roid and raised an eyebrow. "How will Haven City handle you?"

"Not well," Roid guessed and shared a small look with Annityn but whatever passed between them remained unreadable. "But I can only hope they'll see reason."

"Nyx," Gareth ordered gently and then faced her husband. "Nik, prepare the war council. We need to talk. Merasaki and Sedet can stay here, as long as they don't get in the Mages' way." With a nod to their retreating backs, Gareth then addressed the rest of them. "I'll show you to the War Room."

As they filled out, Jak cast one more look at Keira's still body before it was blocked by a Mage.

--&--

Jak told himself he was prepared to face them again. All of them. The people who had been his friends. Torn and Ashelin. Sig and Samos. Tess and Daxter.

But, of course, he was lying.

The War Room was small and richly red, the windows covered with a thick, crimson curtain. A plush, intricately designed carpet directed the circle floor. The room itself was bare of all furniture save for a few sparse chairs and a large, wooden table in the center. The table was decorated in maps and notes and secret files.

Gareth was already with Nik, murmuring over a map of their city. Aithne and Cyren lingered in the chairs. Aithne stayed because of Cyren and Cyren stayed because, being a Yoshimoro, his very existence changed the tables quite drastically.

Maelia had opted to stay with Venn and Crea as they helped the Mages heal Sala and Keira. Ryu had gone somewhere with Roid and Annityn—Jak suspected it had to do with Kiff Fire who still waited outside the Holy City.

And Nyx had gone to fetch Torn and Ashelin.

At the sudden quivering of his stomach, Jak nearly growled. At least he wasn't going to face all of them down at once. He would slowly reintroduce himself, one group at a time. He knew for a fact that if he had to stand before all of them—all of his friends as a stranger—he would not have survived.

_Of course I would have,_ Jak thought harshly and was tempted to rap his fist against something to ease the tension in his body. But he merely held himself taut and prayed for Nyx to hurry up and deliver his first reunion.

Unfortunately, she did. The wide, double-doors to the War Room swung open and Nyx stepped forward. Behind her were Torn and Ashelin.

Knowing what was surely to come, Jak braced himself and waited.

For a moment it was as if Torn and Ashelin didn't recognize him, or didn't see him. They glanced around the War Room taking in the faces of those present. Jak wondered what Nyx had told them and glanced toward the blonde soldier.

But it was no matter. He found out soon enough. Torn and Ashelin's eyes snapped back to him, at the same time.

It would have been comical if it wasn't so serious.

Just as Jak expected, Torn's eyes went nearly black with rage. Ashelin's went shockingly cold and then filmed over with moisture. That surprised Jak because the Ashelin he had left behind wasn't one to give into those kinds of emotions.

There wasn't much time to think about it, though. Torn flew toward him, fist raised and ready. Jak saw it coming but didn't block it. The punch was surprisingly strong and Jak was unbalanced, landing on his back.

Almost absently, Jak raised a hand to his jaw. Experimentally he rubbed it and glanced back up at Torn. "You still hit like a woman," he announced.

Torn didn't say anything. He merely growled, hooking a hand into the collar of Jak's shirt and hauling him half-way into the air. Something was moving at the back of his throat and Jak could see the rage burning hotter and hotter in the back of his eyes.

Pushing at him, Jak got to his feet. Torn's hands clenched and unclenched at his side and Jak merely waited for the second punch. That was all he was giving Torn. Two punches and then Jak was fighting back.

He was starting to have enough of all the punching.

But it wasn't Torn that hit him.

Ashelin moved up, her eyes still brimming. Both Jak and Torn inclined their heads to look at her as Ashelin's intense green eyes locked on Jak.

"_Bastard_!" she screeched and snapped her fist back.

The blow hit him hard in the jaw. Jak swore he could almost feel his brain rattle hard against his skull. His butt hit the ground hard and he felt the sharp pain in his elbow as he banged it on the wooden floor.

His jaw screamed in pain as he moved it cautiously. He considered invoking a god's name but it would just piss Ashelin off even more.

"Well, at least _she_ hasn't gotten any weaker," Jak pointed out as casually as he could, wiping at the blood that colored his lip. He wondered absently if she would hit him again if he stood up.

"I should've known you'd never _die_. What the hell was I thinking, mourning?" Darkly, Torn scrapped his boot along the floor. "And where the hell have you been!?" he demanded when he got over the rage.

Now Jak did stand up. If he was going to have to explain himself, he was doing it on his feet. "Look, you don't want to know," he replied, brushing off his pants. Torn looked ready to hit him again.

"You think that's it? That's all it takes. 'Hey guys, long time no see'?" Torn grabbed Jak collar again, giving him a rough shake. "Well, fuck that. I've got some questions you better damn well answer if you know what's good for you."

"I didn't take your threats several twenty years ago, what makes you think I'll do it now?" Jak pushed Torn's angry hands away, feeling his own blood start to boil. Hell, he didn't _ask_ for his job, did he? Was everyone going to hate him for what he had to do? "I'll tell you when you need to know."

"Like hell you will! If I have to beat the answers out of you I damn well will." Torn started forward again when Ashelin placed a hand on her husband's arm.

"We thought you were dead. You weren't. You _let_ us mourn for you?" Her eyes blazed a brilliant jade as she circled Jak. "What about Keira? And Aithne? Your daughter. Do you even know about _her_?"

"Yeah, I do," Jak said, feeling his anger diffuse, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. "I got Keira out of Sage-Harmona. And I met Aithne along the way."

"Aithne?" The rage in Ashelin's eyes was quickly dropped and hope sprang up. "My son. Ryu. Was Ryu with her?"

"Yeah," Jak answered, forcing himself to relax. Ashelin's anger wasn't going to rear its ugly head. Not when she was in mommy-mode. "So was Maelia. And Cyren. Crea and her friend Venn brought them into the city."

"He's here? He's here!?" Ashelin jumped back as if the knowledge burned her, her hand shooting out to grip Torn. "My Ryutaro's alright?"

"Yes, Mom," answered Ryutaro Praxis as he stepped into the room, behind him was Roid.

For a moment, Ashelin and Torn could only stare at the son they thought dead. They had eyes only for him. Ashelin's were glazed over with tears while Torn's softened to impossible levels.

Then they noticed Roid.

Instantly, the guns Ashelin and Torn kept hooked at their belts were in their arms and pointed at Roid. Roid merely shifted from one foot to another, gauging their reaction and wondering if he would have to do some fast footwork.

Breaths hissed out in rage and pain and hate. Jak glanced at Ryu and tried to see what the boy would do. He would step in if he had to—but he really hoped not.

But Ryu did something that surprised them all, especially himself. He stepped in front of Roid.

"What are you—" Roid began in a low hiss.

"Shut up," Ryu snapped back and angled his body to make sure it protected all of Roid. His legs were braced to withstand the momentum of bullet if it was rocketed into him, even though he knew his parents would never shoot at him.

"Ryu," Torn ordered, his eyes hard and calculating, judging if he could hit Roid without clipping his son. And, _damnit_, he couldn't. "Move aside. _Now_."

"No."

"That's a Metal Head," Ashelin pointed out.

"I know."

"Then what in the name of the nine hells are you doing!?" Torn demanded harshly, glancing over at Ashelin. But she wouldn't look at him. Her eyes were traded on her son. "Don't make me shoot through you."

"Would you?" Ryu wondered and then shook his head. It didn't matter. "Do you think I'd be standing between you and him if I didn't have a good reason?"

He gave that a few seconds to settle in and then went on, "Roid—that's his name—he's not a bad person. I had a hard time trusting him, too, but he's not. He's just living his life on a few promises he made, okay? Metal Heads… they're not like we thought. They're not savage or animalistic. They think, they breathe. Just like us. Roid's an ally, like it or not, and we don't shoot the allies. _Dad_."

"You've got to be joking me. You've got to be joking me," Torn repeated over and over like a mantra in his head. "They sacked our city. Destroyed it. You want me to lower my weapon for him?"

Ryu didn't bat an eye. "Yes."

"Well, _shit_." Ashelin could see the truth in her son's eyes and started to lower her firearm. Then she saw Roid's glowing skull and it was back up in a shot. "I can't. I'm sorry, Ryu. I can't."

Roid took that moment to move from behind Ryu. He sent the boy a look, one that was half-thankful, half-bewildered. Then he faced his parents. "I mean you no harm."

"You killed my people," Torn snarled.

"And you killed mine," Roid pointed out and shrugged, running his long fingers over his scaly body. "We have all killed each other. But that is neither there nor now. We come together now, to face a common enemy."

"One reason," Ashelin snapped, circling Roid as he came to her side, her gun trained on his skull. "One good reason why I should believe you."

"One? Easy enough. Survival." Roid glanced around, from Jak to Ryu to Torn and Ashelin to Gareth. "We creatures are all dictated by our will to survive."

"It might be because I don't have the hate of the Metal Heads like you do," Gareth spoke up from his position where he had been watching the standoff. "But if Roid's got an army to help us, I'm willing to give out a little trust."

"What are _you_ talking about?" Torn demanded, daring to send Gareth a look before whipping his gaze back around to Roid.

"He's brought a large group of Metal Heads to the city," Jak supplied easily, pleased that all the anger in the room wasn't entirely focused on him. Even if he did feel a little uneasy for Roid. "They're just outside the walls and they're willing to aid us."

"Fuck me," Torn breathed and the room was tense for several more minutes. Then he lowered his gun and the tension eased, but not by much.

"One move, Metal Head," Ashelin warned as she followed suit. "One move and you're done before you can blink."

"I'm used to the threat," was all Roid answered and deliberately brushed passed them to approached Gareth.

Torn's eyes landed back on his son and the tension in his shoulders increased. There was just something _different_ about the boy.

"You've changed," he told him and forced his muscles to relax. Ryu looked like a man now, standing for what he believed in. And he wouldn't but wonder what had caused such a forceful change in him.

"Maybe I've had to," Ryu answered just as the door behind him swung open.

In stepped Annityn, Aithne, and Cyren. They glanced around at the concession. Roid talking lowly to Gareth. Ashelin staring hard at Jak. Torn locking eyes with his son.

"Looks like everyone had the reunion without us," Aithne said sardonically and hers lips twisted into a mockery of smile. "Guess that means we can get down to business."

Cyren stepped forward, well aware that this was his time to reveal all that he was. "We have some talking to do."

--&--

Elsewhere, Venn was working his magick. Once again he was hovering over Sala, his fingers running down her clammy skin. Sala moaned briefly in pain, but it was a good sign. She was being slowly roused from her poisonous slumber.

Crea was beside him, ready to leap to his aid if the magic got too strong. She wasn't the best at it—earlier experiments could testify to that—but she was adequate when the stakes were high.

It was just that now he couldn't think with her around. It had been like that before, yes, but it was different. He couldn't just forget what she had told him. That it was his face that had ripped apart her mind and left her hollow and broken.

How was he supposed to handle himself around her? How could she possibly even _stand_ to look at him, knowing what his face had been used for?

Maelia watched them both with silent eyes, which was uncharacteristic of her. But she had been on edge ever since news had reached them that the Haven City residents had been aroused. Venn got that feeling that Maelia was mostly in the medical ward not to help like she had said, but to hide out.

Which was fine with him. He couldn't blame a girl for wanting to escape.

There was a small clobber of footsteps along the floor and both Crea and Venn looked up. Something tightened in Venn's gut because it was his half-brother, his wife, and what he could assume was their daughter.

Nyx's eyes met her sister and motioned the little redhead toward her. "That's your Aunt Crea," she told the little girl and then looked back at Crea. "This is your niece, Merasaki."

"An old, good name," Crea muttered and Venn was surprised that there was some warmth in her.

Pleased, Merasaki slide up to Crea and held her hand. Crea blinked down at the girl and for a moment everything was still. Venn wasn't sure why, but he held his breath. This was important, he could tell.

Then the most amazing thing happened. Crea held Merasaki's hand back. She gripped the tiny fingers in hers and even managed a small, unsure smile for the tiny girl.

Venn's heart broke.

"Ah, that's Venn," Nik said and his daughter looked over at him. "Over there. Looks a little like me? I guess he's kinda like… your uncle or something."

"Really?" Wide eyes rose to meet Venn's as Merasaki quirked her fiery head. "You're really my uncle?"

"Er… well…" Out of sheer embarrassment he backed away, not sure how to handle the situation. "I guess. Kinda. I'm your father's half-brother." He fought down the sigh when Merasaki continued to stare. "That means we, ah, have the same fathers. Not the same mothers."

Suddenly, he jerked his head over to Nyx, wincing. Did a mother want her kid to know that not all marriages—hell, Nik's mother hadn't even been married to their father—worked out? Sure it was the harsh truth, but Merasaki was eight…

"Why?" Merasaki pondered aloud, looking now toward her mother.

"Some people just can't," Nyx answered and didn't seem too upset that Venn had revealed the fragility of humans to her daughter.

"Okay." With a smile, Merasaki accepted that answer.

From her corner, Maelia smiled at all of them. She had seen the softening of Crea as well and it touched her heart. At least the blonde had been warm, even if only for an instant.

Helpless to do otherwise, she glanced out the window and wondered what would happen when she met her parents.

--&--

"That is the worst plan I've ever heard," Jak snarled.

"Actually," Torn put in reasonably, sending Jak a warning look. He still wasn't pleased that his friend—_former_—was alive. "It's a good plan. With the army we have now, there's no way we can win against Sage-Harmona."

"Even with the Metal Heads," Ashelin cut in, glancing once at Roid. "We'd still be outnumbered and Sage-Harmona has the power of that Mage on their side, too."

"It's dangerous," Jak shot back. "And we're isolated in here. Do you really think they'd let Cyren just waltz out of the city and head toward Sage-Harmona?"

"If we hurry, we can slip them under the cover of night, before they're visible. It should protect them," Torn pointed out, motioning down to the map spread out on the table before them.

"Or it could get him killed," Jak added, glancing over at Cyren, who remained silent and thoughtful ever since his plan had been brought up.

"Yes, but even if we manage to get Cyren out of the city and to Sage-Harmona, would the people there follow him?" Gareth finally asked and had Cyren raising his head to meet his eyes. "You're the heir, yes, but they've been living under a dictator for nearly two decades. And you're young and untrained. They might feel a little uneasy about following such a raw prince to battle. No offense."

Cyren shook his head. "No, you're right."

"They'll follow him," Annityn deadpanned, touching the point on the map that marked Sage-Harmona. "General Tage Yao has been garnering support for Cyren's distant cousin for many years now. The people in Sage-Harmona's support of the Yoshimoro dynasty has increased exactly 67.8 percent in the last five years."

"I'm more than willing to go," Cyren told them all. "These are my people. They are. I don't mind risking the ride to them, especially if it'll help raise our numbers. We need to do all that we can."

"We'll be going with him," Roid said as he stepped up to Annityn's side. Ashelin and Torn visibly tensed but did nothing to hinder. Annityn gave a barely noticeable nod in Roid's direction.

"Me too!" Aithne interjected, offering Cyren a smile. "I can ride just as fast as Cyren can. I won't slow anyone down."

"I don't—" Jak began but cut himself off when he caught Aithne's glare. With a frown he considered how much effort it would take to throw Aithne over his shoulder and lock her away in a room.

He didn't think anyone would try to stop him. Torn might, out of spite. But he knew the need to protect what was his, so perhaps not.

But…

_This place will become a war zone_… Jak realized. The battles might very well begin before Aithne returned with Sage-Harmona soldiers. When the war did start, Jak wanted Aithne as far from it as possible. If she was busy rallying troops in Sage-Harmona, that would mean she would be far from danger.

Nodding mostly to himself, he loosened his grip on the table.

"You'll need horses," he said and surprised them all.

* * *

**notes:** yes, they're leaving. Already. Because I'm author and I control them all! Mine is an evil laugh. So Cyren and Aithne and Roid and Anniytn are separating from the main group to do their _thang_ and I finally get to introduce one of my favorite characters! Yay!

On a quick side note, just to remind ya'all, I really do appreciate your reviews. They really keep me going when this thing gets to be a little much (and it does sometimes). We've already passed the 200 reviews remarks and lets send out Part Four strong! C'mon!

**Act XXII:** we officially meet the last official players of the game and Crea and Venn _finally_ get somewhere. Oh, yeah, and there are reunions galore in the next act.

**reviews**

**Helenilia:** thanks! Continue to enjoy!

**Xazz:** I'm glad Crea's earned your love back! She'll always be near and dear to my heart, even after this. She was one of the very first OCs I ever imagined and I like to think she matured and grew as I did. And I have such fun writing Ryu and Maelia, now that they're not all moody and angsty about how they can't have each other. Because of course they can!

**Chantz:** I can assure that by the end of Part Four all relationships will be over or consummated (expect one, but that's—). I'm extremely excited to write Jak and Keira's reunion, but I also have to do it realistically, since both of them will have quite a lot of things on their plate by the time Keira gets around to waking up. XD

**ChatterBox101:** yes, Venn knows, and no he isn't giving up. But when you find out your woman has been dealing with a secret like that while you've been ignorant along you tend to need to step back, you know?

**Darkening Lightning: **well, I don't want Aithne and Jak to wind up without some form of closure, but at the same time Aithne going "okay, daddy, all forgiven" goes completely against her character. She's a female Jak in _Jak II_ and I can't imagine him forgiving everyone so easily. So you'll have to see how far I take it. And, believe or not, we _are_ nearing the end!


	22. Tender is the Night

**Disclaimer:** don't own anything

**Author's Notes:** two updates on time in a row? It must be a new record.

**warning(s):** none

* * *

** Act XXII: Tender is the Night **

_Oh. My. God. _

It was all Maelia could think.

Because there were her parents and they were walking right towards her. Of course, they couldn't see her, Maelia had pushed herself into the corner the minute she had seen them. And she wasn't sure if she wanted to stay that way.

What was she going to do? What was she going to say? She had changed since she last saw her parents. She wasn't the little girl that had been separated from them anymore. Everything had changed.

She was no longer that lonely little girl that so desperately wanted her father's love.

How could she explain that to them?

Explain that she had found meaning and it wasn't them? A child should have found some reason to stay connected to their parents, but Maelia realized that they had never given her one. Daxter too distance, Tess too close.

They had never really been her parents, though that was all she had ever wanted. And now all of them were going to have to face that fact.

Which was why she was debating with herself on whether or not to hightail it out of the main floor of the Holy City. Something inside her chest was clawing its way up to her throat, threatening to boil over. It tasted like rage but felt like tears and Maelia choked them back, unsure what would happen if she let them spill forth.

Her sneakers were already half turned, more then willing to run away. For a moment, Maelia allowed the temptation to swarm her. The image of fleeing, escaping the tense reunion was welcome and warm.

But she couldn't. That would be cowardly and she was through with all that. She had to face her parents, had to say the things she had been holding back all her life.

_No matter what happens_, she thought to herself, shifting nervously from foot to foot. _No matter what happens, you'll always have Ryu. He won't leave, Maelia. He loves you. _

It gave her strength. A lot of strength. She took a deep, careful breath and stepped out of the shadows. Sunlight played across her strawberry blonde head, making it burn gold. Tess and Daxter were only a few feet in front of her now and she knew she was in plain sight.

Tess and Daxter stood a few feet in front of her. Their eyes widening comically at the same time.

"Mom," Maelia greeted, surprised at her own level of calm. Her voice belonged to some older, more adept woman. "Dad."

"Mae—Maelia," Tess cried, her blue eyes filming over with water. Her hands reached up and clasped together, her chest heaving. "They—they told me you had made it, but I—I didn't believe it. Couldn't."

Daxter looked at her, Maelia thought dizzily. And there was some emotion in it. Not a lot, but some. He wasn't looking at her like she was a stranger, like she didn't matter. And it was almost enough to break her.

Almost, but not quite.

She was too strong for that now. Maelia had found something to live for and her father's aloofness wasn't going to take that away. Not again.

Holding back her sobs, Tess launched herself forward. Her skinny arms came up and around Maelia's neck. She was swept up into the woman's arm haphazardly, Tess's head lowering to her shoulder to muffle her sobs.

"I never gave up, Maelia," Tess told her brokenly, stroking the shoulder of her shirt. "I never gave up. Not on you."

"It's alright. I'm fine," Maelia answered with a new strength and conviction in her voice. She rubbed her mother's soft, blonde head once and then eased the woman slowly back so she could take in the sight of both her mother and her father.

Like a man on edge, Daxter shoved his hands into his pockets. His eyes narrowed at his daughter. Not in anger, but in memorization. How had he missed her all these years? Tess's eyes and his smile, the perfect couple of his red and Tess's blonde. Her beautiful face… so like her brother's. Laughing and innocent.

_She looks like Lee_, Daxter thought and his heart ached. _She looks like Lee and I missed it all these years. _

And then he wanted to hold her. Hold her like he should have done all those years ago. When she had been little and she had wanted the man before her to be her father. A bitter taste rose in Daxter's throat.

He didn't. Not because he couldn't. But Maelia looked like she didn't need it.

Stiffly, as if her limbs were suddenly beyond tired, Tess pulled even farther away from her daughter. Maelia looked up at her mother without much emotion in her eyes. She simply stared, waiting for the blonde woman to speak.

Then Tess said, "You've changed."

Maelia nodded lightly, a small smile coming across her lips. She looked at her father once and then back at her mother. "I didn't have much of a choice," she explained. "What with all the stuff we ran into."

"Like what?" Tess wanted to know.

"I'll tell you sometime later," Maelia answered, shaking her head lightly. She toyed absently with one of her bouncy curls.

"Maelia, we were so worried about you. All of you," Tess said gently, as if not quite sure how to handle her new daughter.

"I know, Mom. I worried about you, too."

Tess's blue eyes drifted over to Daxter, as if looking for reassurance. Daxter could only shrug his shoulders and Tess turned her eyes back to her daughter.

"Maelia—" she began.

She cut off Tess without any words. She merely turned her back on them, glancing up at the glass ceiling that allowed the sunlight to stream down on them.

Then, slowly, she turned back to her parents. Something moved in her eyes, something deeply sad and regretful. At the same time, a smile appeared there on her lips.

"All my life," Maelia began gently, as if she was easing them into her speech. "All I wanted was for you two to love them."

"Maelia," Tess cut in instantly, her eyes widening. "We _do_ love you."

"No," Maelia answered with a shake of head. "Not in the way you should have. I guess because of what happened to Lee we couldn't ever have a normal family."

"Maelia," Tess spoke softly, her eyes clouding. "That isn't fair."

"Let me say this, please. I need to," Maelia snapped, her voice growing heavy with tears. She rubbed the back of her hands ferociously over them.

Daxter took Tess's hand and sent her a look that told her that Maelia needed to say what she was going to say. No matter how badly it hurt them.

"I wanted a mother," Maelia said then, looking directly at Tess. "_Not_ a best friend. Mom, did you ever punish me? Did you ever _act_ like a mother should have? You tried so hard to fill up that hole Daddy had left in us that you forgot that you still had to be a mother. And it was almost as bad as what Daddy did."

A small, muffled sob escaped Tess's lips as she pressed her head into Daxter's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Maelia. I'm so sorry."

"Daddy," Maelia went on, ignoring her mother. "_Daddy_. A few weeks before now I would have given anything for you to love me. Acknowledge me even. I wanted nothing more than to be your daughter, Daddy. I would've even tried being Lee for you." A weak smile fluttered across her lips once more. "But you couldn't and I guess I'm tired of waiting. Ryu, he loves me. For me. It isn't the love I needed then but it's the love I need _now_."

Without waiting for a reply, Maelia slipped away. The earlier morning sun warmed her chilled skin and she felt a true smile bless her lips. Her heart lighter than it had ever been, she turned again to her parents.

"I'll always love you," she said, keeping her smile in place. "You'll always be my parents. But I can't wait for you two. I can't mourn Lee like you can. I didn't know him, love him like you did. I'm sorry about that, too. But I can't let my life carry on the way it has. I need to move on. But I'll always love you."

Again she turned, but this time she didn't look back. Her heart in her throat, Maelia broke off into a run. She wasn't running away, she was running _to_. To her future. She was light and free. It was an amazing feeling, no longer being tethered down to her deep sadness. Her yearning.

For the first time in her life, Maelia looked toward her future.

While her parents stared after her, lost in their own thoughts. Tears began to eek out of Tess's eyes and down across her cheeks. Daxter stood stone still beside her, eyes cool and aloof as they had always been.

Then he broke down. His shoulders sagged and his hands went up to press against his wet eyes. Tess said nothing as she turned her head to watch him struggle. She pressed her lips together and swallowed up her own sobs.

Then Daxter brought her into his arms, his body shaking as he hooked them around her shoulders. "Goddess," he breathed against her neck. "Goddess, what have I done?"

Tess's arms came up and around his neck, holding him tight to her own shaking body. She rubbed her lips against his temple before glancing away.

"No," she told him. "What have _we_ done?"

--&--

Venn wasn't a drinker. There were many in his tribe that liked the taste of cool vodka sliding down their throats. Venn's father had been one of them. In the desert heat and the desert labors there weren't many thing that could give one any sort of pleasure, but alcohol had always been one of them.

But Venn didn't care for the taste much. He had sampled his first sip on his ninth birthday, at his father's insistence, from the cool, metallic jug that kept it cool. It wasn't much of a surprise that someone as young as he had blanched at the strong taste, but it was always assumed he would grow into it.

He didn't. No matter how often he tried, Venn hadn't been able to care for the taste. He could, and would, drink it from time to time. Especially if he was meeting with other tribe leaders, as a sign of companionship, but he avoided it all other times.

Yet, right now, he had a long, cool glass of vodka between his fingers. Nyx had fetched it for him once he had finished the antidote for Sala. Using that much magick had exhausted him and she had thought, likely, that he needed it to calm his hot blood, inflamed by the exertion of power magick.

That wasn't it entirely. True, when he had finished his work, Venn had been weary, exhausted and sweaty. The perspiration had clouded his eyes and coated his body in a fine sheen. His throat had burned to the point where talking caused him untold pain. But such a feeling faded with time, as his body regenerated the power he had spent. Ten minutes after his spells had been cast, Venn's tired body had already started to heal.

The vodka was for something else entirely. It soothed his soul and numbed his brain. And his brain had been thinking too much for his liking. Filled with dark thoughts that were alien to a normal personality.

Groaning under his breath, Venn tipped his back and lapped up the last of his drink. Beneath him, the Holy City was silent, little lights glowing dimly from the tiny houses below.

It was pretty as a picture, he supposed, leaning on the guardrail, the rim of the glass held loosely between his fingertips. The backdrop of morning sunlight painting the houses that surrounded the palace like a castle's keep.

Past the house Venn could make out the dark outlines of the walls that guarded the Holy City from the rest of the world. The sand stretched out behind it like a sea, pale against the dark.

That, he supposed, was what bothered him. The fact that he could make out the walls of the Holy City. It made him feel trapped, enclosed.

Venn had grown up in the wilds of the desert, tagging along before a wagon, land stretching endlessly out before him. Even Donna-Rune—the home city of the desert clans—was never enclosed. The walls didn't tower and the sky was open and clear.

Here everything was securely fastened, nothing fleeting. The sands shifting and faded around them, but nothing inside the city changed. Venn couldn't imagine waking up every morning and seeing nothing new, nothing different.

Which was why he was antsy, he supposed. Irritated and taut.

Annityn, Roid, Cyren, and Aithne were riding off—even now—toward Sage-Harmona, the wind at their backs and the suns on their face. Venn yearned to be with them, a horse galloping onward, never ending.

Or with Crea.

A frown crossed his face. He had to admit that the true reason for his discomfort was Crea and Crea only. And it made him wish for another shot of vodka. He didn't feel like thinking about Crea. Not for one damn minute.

He had only just gotten the fool taste out of his mouth.

For a moment he stared down at the glass held between his fingers, tempted to throw it against a wall. But he simply swallowed it and closed his eyes. It just hurt too much to allow those thoughts to penetrate his tired mind.

From behind, Venn's ears brought to his attention the sound of footsteps. He didn't bother glancing up. Instead, he zoned in on the sand outside the walls.

Nik reclined against the railing, arching his back against the cool metal, and tipping his hand toward the sun. "Hey," he greeted after a small moment of silence, turning his head toward his half-brother.

For a reply, Venn lifted his shoulders, finding the tension that had been relieved, thanks to the vodka, was lost.

They were half-brothers, but they knew little of each other. Venn had been no more then six when Nik had appeared in their camp, a Sage-Harmona tattoo on his arm and questions for his father.

Alta—their mutual father—had taken one look at Nik Mandrake and seen not his Sage-Harmona bred mother, but a young man with the potential to be a desert warrior. So he had taken him under his wing and answered all his questions.

In the beginning Venn had almost resented this mysterious brother he had never known. He was used to being the one with all the attention, but Nik had been so fun and new that it hadn't lasted very long and he had fallen into some form of hero-worship with Nik. He hadn't been able to stop himself.

For two years Nik had stayed with them, traveling with them, learning their ways. He had picked almost all things up surprisingly well. Venn had been tempted to tell Nik about a city girl he had rescued from the desert not long before he had found them, but held back. Crea, after all, had been his secret.

Then, like everything else, war had split them apart. Eris rose up and Nik had gone back to Sage-Harmona to fight alongside his woman—more in tune with who he was—and Alta had returned to focusing on his raising his second, pure-blooded son. Then Alta had drowned, Venn caught the disease, and he had wound up at Sage-Harmona.

The boy Venn had been faded, as had the fondness he felt for his half-brother. It wasn't that he had grown to resent Nik. It was just that they had become different people. Venn was older than Nik had been when they had first met, Nik was close to middle-aged, and had seen so much of the world.

So they didn't know how to handle one another.

Nik took a deep sigh, turning around so his mimicked his half-brother's stance. Silently, they looked out toward the Holy City as the sunlight danced over it.

"So," Nik asked without turning his head. "What happened to your tribe? Are they waiting outside, like Roid's Metal Head friends?"

"No," Venn replied with a small shake of his head. "This is my fight. This doesn't concern them at all. I told them to wait in Donna-Rune for me and to elect a new leader if they hear news of my death."

"Hmm." In consideration, Nik flicked a finger against Venn's glass. "I don't believe they'd just willingly let you go off to war by yourself, Venn. I learned that no matter what happens out there, the desert people are always loyal to their leaders."

A ghost of a smile crossed Venn's lips as he answered, "Well, they did put up a fight about it. But I made them see reason." He glanced over at his half-brother. "I promised to call if things got real bad."

"But you're not," Nik guessed.

Venn shook his head. "No, I'm not."

They fell back into silence, Nik looked up into the morning sky and Venn off into the sandy distance. It wasn't exactly awkward, as they weren't enemies, but it wasn't easy either.

"Is Sala going to make it?" Nik asked suddenly.

The question caught him by surprise and Venn did a double take before he understood the question entirely. "Oh. She should be fine. The Mages and I mixed the antidote and now all she has to do is allow her organs to heal."

"Good," Nik answered, folding his hands together. "Good. I don't what I—what Gareth—would have done if you hadn't shown up and helped like you did."

A little embarrassed by the praise, Venn lifted a shoulder. "I was just there. I couldn't have just stood back and let her _die_, Nik."

"Yeah, I know. But others could've." He smiled kindly at him, older brother to younger brother, and something easy settled between them. "I sent him after you, you know. Gareth. I told him to go find you because I knew you would help."

There wasn't a whole lot he could say to that. It felt both odd and nice to have someone he had once looked up to compliment him.

Especially after so long of doubting himself, especially now with Crea…

_…Crea_. He sighed deeply and lowered his head. Nik watched him silently, raising a small eyebrow. Then he chuckled.

"Let me guess," Nik proclaimed, circling a finger in the air. "Crea Urban?"

"Stuff happened to her," Venn answered softly, biting down on the truth. He didn't want to reveal anything more than what Crea would have. "Stuff that had a lot to do with me… and… well, I don't know how to handle it."

"'Handling' an Urban woman is _never_ an option," Nik told him with a knowledgeable smirk. "Trust me… and there must be something in our blood, Venn. We seem doomed to fall in love with them."

Eyes wide, Venn just looked up at him. Nik shrugged.

"Oh, the rewards at the end are superb, let me tell you," Nik told him as his face broke out into a happy grin. "It just takes a hell of a lot of work to get there."

"I've been in love with Crea all my life," Venn admitted softly, rubbing the cool glass against his suddenly hot forehead. "Even after she changed, I feel in love with that Crea too. I don't know why. She kept pushing me away, but I couldn't stop myself from loving her."

With a self-satisfied smirk, Nik watched as Venn snapped himself up and spun. Realization was sparking in his eyes, turning the gray almost black. He wheeled around to face Nik once more, a small smirk crossing his lips.

"All I ever wanted was to be with her. And I loved her so much… it was frightening. _I_ was frightened. Of it, of what I was feeling. It was so total and ending that, no matter what I said, it made me wary." He snapped his fingers, the smirk growing wider. "That's why I let her push me away. Because I wanted to be. I wanted that space."

"Well," Nik drawled, turning on the railing and leaning down on his elbow. "I hope you figure it out, because—brother or not—I'll have to break you neck if you break her heart."

"Well, I'm tired of it," Venn said, going on as if Nik hadn't spoken. "Tired of letting her put that distance between us. Not anymore. I swear."

"Don't forget to put that glass down!" Nik called as he stormed off and then snickered to himself. "And good luck finding her."

--&--

It was still predawn when Annityn, Roid, Cyren and Aithne rode off to Sage-Harmona. Their horses were fast and ready. Gareth had picked them out himself, going over each other for their riding endurance before handing the reigns over.

Well, Roid didn't ride. He detested horses and his thick legs allowed him to keep pace with them. And if things got too exhausted on the hot, desert ground, he could easily switch to his wings and fly for a while.

Their horses were powerful and strong, intended for long treks across the desert. Annityn took the lead, knowing the way to Sage-Harmona like the back of her hand, with Roid on his haunches running by her stallion's hooves.

Aithne and Cyren rode behind them, riding a filly and a colt respectively. Together, the four of them kicked up dirt and sand as they rode the wind up to the sand dunes that hovered near the Holy City.

The sun spilled out from behind the horizon, golden rays spilling like blood over the sand. The tents of the Sage-Harmona army doted the golden sand like a disease, dark blotches against healthy soil.

At the top of the first sand dune, Annityn pulled their horses to a halt. She turned her head and glanced over at Cyren and then down to Roid.

"We cannot gallop on the horses until nightfall," she informed them, her hair sliding down her arms, black against her shockingly pale skin. "It would be too hot and we do not want to exhaust them."

"That's fine with me," Cyren answered, rubbing at his brow that had already gathered up his sweat. Even the early morning sun was unbearably hot. Beneath him, Cyren's golden colt expelled an antsy breath.

Very slowly, Roid began to stretch his muscles, adjusting them to the sudden actions he would be taking. "And how long will this take? The ride to Sage-Harmona?"

Annityn turned her head toward the distance, calculating the answer in her head before looking back at Roid. "Without the added pace of a wagon and five members, only a day or so. Midnight would be the likely time in which we arrive."

"This Tage Yao that we are seeking out… what do you know of him?" Roid questioned as he stretched one long wing. His scaly body already glistening with a sheen of sweat.

"Tage Yao, twenty-two years of age. Favored general of Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. Son of a descendant soldier in the Yoshimoro dynasty. Has lead three successful campaigns in Sage-Harmona's name. Known for his brash military action and decisiveness in battle. No strong relationships known, lives with the normal ranking soldiers," Annityn explained, her voice merely reciting the data.

"You, of course, know all about him. You always do," Roid agreed with a small nod, frowning as he reviewed the information she had given him. "But he's young… and brash you say. Are you sure he'll be willing to help us?"

"Yes," Annityn answered in complete monotone, her golden eyes giving away nothing. "He has been working against Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi since he joined the military. Currently, he is rallying support for a distant relative of Cyren's. A cousin who has been in hiding since Hirmoyarbeshi's coup."

"Wait," Cyren protested, blinking at her. "If he was such a threat when you were working _for_ Hirmoyarbeshi, why didn't he order you to take him down?"

"Because," Annityn answered calmly. "I did not tell him."

Both Roid and Cyren boggled at her.

This time she lifted her shoulders in a very small, nearly unnoticeable shrug. "I did not feel General Yao to be a threat. He made no move against the government directly. If he had I would have eliminated him. But he made no inclination toward his own coup and he is the best general in the army." When they continued to stare at her, Annityn went into her dictionary mode.

"He's that powerful? Then why is he still at Sage-Harmona and not with Hirmoyarbeshi and the army?" Roid asked as he stood back on his haunches, fully stretched.

"The Mage wished him to stay," Annityn answered.

"I find that suspicious," Roid muttered darkly. "The Mage. What do we know of him? Not even you have any clue Annityn."

"What I want to know," Aithne said suddenly, drawing their attention to her for the first time. Her dark blue eyes were narrowed on the tents that dotted the sand. "Is why does Sage-Harmona just let us walk out of the Holy City? I mean no struggle, no clue that they even know we come and go."

"Because Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi has no doubt he will win this fight," Annityn returned calmly. "He has no plans to lose and the coming and goings of such a small group of people are trivial to him."

"But if we were to bring an army… _that_ would catch his attention," Cyren mused, a small gleam in his eyes. "Especially if it was a Sage-Harmona army."

A feral grin crossed Roid's face. "Indeed."

Aithne nudged her horse over to Annityn. "Well, then let's go." A frown crossed her features as she glanced back over at the Holy City. "I don't like leaving them alone like this."

"There is just one question I must ask before we proceed," Annityn said and glanced down at Roid. "Now that both you and Cyren are not lounging in the Holy City, will Kiff Fire keep to her word and fight with the Holy City should Sage-Harmona begin the battle before we return?"

For a moment, a dark look came into Roid's eyes. Not because a Metal Head's word had been cast doubt upon—and, yes, Kiff Fire looked to her own first—but because Kiff Fire was his friend. "Kiff Fire is loyal only to her word and her people. Fighting with the Holy City helps her with both. Yes, she will fight."

Unhindered by the look, Annityn turned her head back to the desert and Sage-Harmona. "Then we find." She kicked her horse and the stallion rose to meet her demands.

Like Annityn had said, they were unable to ride at a full gallop. As the heat spread across the desert like wildfire, the horses could only stand to move at a medium-paced canter. Aithne and Cyren had no problem with it as the sun caused them to sweat and boil in the saddle, their bodies sticking onto their leather seats.

They managed to ride until the afternoon, when the sun reached its zenith. Annityn had ordered them to rest and allow the horses to fight the heat.

Unlike their journey to the Holy City, there was no shade for them to linger in. Instead, Aithne and Cyren rolled themselves in the sands, trying to absorb what little coolness the grainy soil offered.

Roid sat stonily on his haunches, waiting for the change in the temperature that would allow them to ride again. Annityn gave the horses what water they had. Even though her black hair shone with the ravenous heat of the sun she seemed least affected by the sun's menacing rays, moving as if she wasn't standing under a boiling hot orb.

The sand began to cool and Roid gave them the sign to start riding again. He took to the sky once they started, flying over them, casting a welcomed shadow on Aithne and Cyren's body. The sweat cooled on Roid's scaly and the wind kept him from feeling the worst of the heat.

Then, finally, night swept across the desert. And with it came a chill, spreading out like a blanket of water. The chill was surprisingly sharp and caused the sweat on Aithne's shoulders and arms to freeze right away.

Now instead of melting in her saddle, she trembled in it.

The combination of hot and cold brought a deep doziness into Aithne's shoulders. Her eyes drooped against her will, her head hit her chest. She hadn't realized it, but she was exhausted, physically and mentally. She hadn't slept well since Haven City had been destroyed and, with only the constant motion of horse feet thumping along the sandy floor, it was easy for her to fall into dreams.

In her dreams she saw fire. Fire and rage and hate. It boiled in her blood, caused blisters to rise and pop on her skin. She could almost hear the screams in the back of her head, almost see someone bleeding near her. And she burned up with anger.

She snapped up at the dream when her filly jerked to an abrupt halt. She nearly fell out of her saddle in surprise, but managed to grip the horn just before she slid out. Cyren had a grip on her reins and it was he who had pulled her horse to a stop, bringing the filly toward his colt.

Roid landed in front of her, his clawed hand reached out to touch the thick flank of Annityn's stallion. The horse tried to shy away from the Metal Head, but Annityn kept him in place.

Before them was Sage-Harmona, menacing and dark even at night. The huge walls that circled the city isolated it and made it look like an impenetrable fortress.

"Here we are again," Roid muttered in a slightly disproving tone, but Aithne knew it had more to do with his hate of Sage-Harmona than his reluctance in Cyren's plan.

Annityn dismounted, gripping the reins of her horse tight. She motioned for Cyren and Aithne to follow suit and took their reins from them once they were safely on the ground. Saying nothing she began the last trek to Sage-Harmona.

"Just how do you plan on sneaking us in?" Roid questioned as he followed Annityn, Aithne and Cyren just behind him. "By now they know you for a traitor."

The young girl said nothing. She merely tugged the horses in the direction of the city and forced Roid, Aithne, and Cyren to follow. They circled the walls of Sage-Harmona, keeping to the shadows. Even the horses were silent.

Annityn stopped them at the back of the wall, her eyes scanning it. Then she turned her head to face them.

"We will use the soldier's barracks to enter," she spoke suddenly, nudging the wall with her boot. "It was too risky earlier, but since we are looking for General Tage Yao the best option is to go through this way."

Silently, the wall slid back, revealing a high archway. Annityn pulled the horses into it and Roid followed, motioning Cyren and Aithne forward with a flick of his wrist.

Light offered a small look of cobbled streets leading to a long, one-story building that followed the entire wall. A slanted roof and small windows decorating its bland front. A wide, double-door was its entrance.

"I will place the horses in the stables," Annityn told them, already pulling their rides away. "Wait for me here."

For about fifteen tense minutes, Cyren and Aithne huddled together while Roid stood at the ready in front of them. Sage-Harmona was eerily quiet around them and every small noise was an alarm ringing in their heads.

Then Annityn returned and silently motioned them to follow her toward the long house. She paused at the door, resting a palm against it. Then she quietly swung it open, pushing head inside. All she saw was darkness and heard only the small sounds of the remaining soldiers in Sage-Harmona sleeping.

"This way. Gently," she ordered and slipped into the darkness, waiting for the feeling of their presence beside her.

She led them down a series of pitch-black corridors, tiptoeing lightly along the tiled floor. It was impossible to make anything out in the dark—though perhaps Roid and Annityn could see where they were going—and each sharp turn was like a nervous jolt to the stomach.

Suddenly there was a small light at the end of the next hallway Annityn led them down. The golden rays slipped out of the cracks, spilling onto the darkened floor. Without waiting for them, Annityn headed toward it.

The door opened with ease and they walked into the kitchen. Long tables lined the floor, with a roaring fire—the source of the light—to the left of them and a buffet table in the back for food.

Sitting at the table closest to the small group, his back to them, was who they could only assume was General Tage Yao. He wore the crimson uniform of a Sage-Harmona general with ease and his onyx hair, nearly opaque in its thick color, sparkled with the orange of the fire.

The general's head shut up, like a predator sensing its prey. He wheeled around, his navy blue eyes widening into a black color. Cyren instantly recognized him as the strange man who had helped him and Annityn escape the palace when the Mage had woven his spell around it.

"You! What are _you_ doing here!?" Tage demanded, his fingers tightening over the pen he was holding. Spread out underneath his other hand was a sheet of paper. "Didn't I tell you not to—"

"General Yao," Annityn said, stepping next to Cyren's side.

Tage Yao was on his feet in an instant, his eyes darkening and hardening. The pen slipped from his fingers and in the same motion he had a sword in his hand. The subtly curved blade arched in the air and halted at Annityn's neck.

For her part, Annityn merely inclined her head, saving herself from being nicked. She made no move for her weapons. True Tage had appeared to be just as fast as Annityn, but there was no doubt the girl could have defended herself from the general.

"I heard that you had changed sides," Tage spat at her, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. The hilt was elegantly crafted, made of black ivory with golden fire licking up it. "But I didn't believe it for a second."

The room was silent save for Tage's angry breathing. Roid had gone taut as had Cyren. Aithne felt the tension in her shoulders as well, but she had learned that if Annityn did not reach for her weapons, then there was no real threat.

"Draw your weapons," Tage snapped angrily, baring his teeth at her. "I won't kill an unarmed woman, no matter how much you deserve it."

Ready to intervene and save Annityn—who made no move to even acknowledge Tage Yao—Cyren stepped forward. "General Yao? Please. Listen to me. Annityn is my ally. She protects me. She's sworn to it."

"Yeah _right_," Tage snorted in answer, sliding his gaze over to Cyren. "No offense, my Lord, but don't trust this woman any farther than you can throw her."

"If you don't believe us," Roid nearly snarled, curling his claws into his palm. "Then look on her neck. See the mark of truth there." He was poised and ready to leap forward. Though he had no doubt they needed General Tage Yao, he was ready to kill to keep Annityn alive.

Tage seemed to debate with himself for a moment before he lowered his sword. The tip caught the edge of Annityn's red belly shirt and pulled it down, bearing her collarbone. There the puckered _C_ scar that bound Annityn to Cyren glowed white in the firelight.

Almost transfixed by it, Tage stepped forward, his fingers reaching out to touch the skin. Annityn watched him coolly as he closed his eyes for a breath, inhaling sharply. He pulled his hand back, as if it burned.

"That," he said slowly, cautiously lowering his sword and sheathing it. "Is very powerful desert magic. And a blood bond, no less?"

"I serve Cyren Yoshimoro until he is on the throne," Annityn answered without showing any emotion as she adjusted her shirt to cover her scar.

"General Yao?" Cyren questioned, feeling better now that the situation had been diffused.

"At your service, My Lord," Tage replied instantly, clicking his boots together and saluting the younger blonde before him.

Cyren flushed as Aithne looked away, her arms coming up to wrap around her shoulders. "Er… ah… could you not call me that? 'Lord Cyren'?"

"That is your title, my Lord," Tage told him, noticing the hurt sparking in Aithne's eyes but ignoring it. "Your right. The Sage-Harmona people will not allow you to be called anything else."

Sheepishly, Cyren looked away. "It's just that… well… I wasn't _raised_ as a prince. I was raised normally and it just feels _weird_ when someone calls me 'Lord'." Cyren was well aware that Aithne had drawn herself into a corner to hide her hurt and damned himself for being unable to do anything about it.

"Very well, my Lor—Lord Cyren. With time you'll get used to it." Tage relaxed a little then, jutting his narrow, sword-clad hip out. "What do you wish of me?"

"Can you assemble an army for me?" Cyren asked, trying not to flush with embarrassment. "The Holy City will fall to Sage-Harmona unless we ride to its aid and I was told you could help the cause."

"I believe I can handle it," Tage told him with an inclination of his head. Then he motioned toward the back of the kitchen. "But first, would you care for something to drink? I'm sure that desert journey has made you thirsty."

"I would," Aithne said suddenly, brushing passed them and head toward the back. "Goddess's knows I could use the drink."

Tage and the others watched her go. Then the general turned back to Cyren. "And while we drink perhaps you can tell me of your journey?" His eyes fluttered over to Annityn then Roid. "I'm sure it's interesting."

"Sure."

--&--

The room Crea had spent her childhood in had not changed in the slightest. It was still the same. The smell of who she had been lingered with the memories that had been tainted in her own mind.

Crea wasn't sure how she felt about it.

The room made her feel edgy, out of place. Her very presence in the room soiled the happy memories that haunted it.

But Nyx had put her in here, thinking her sister would enjoy being surrounded by the things she had once held dear, and she hadn't the heart to tell her that nothing in this room brought her anything but pain.

_Everything's the same_, she thought not for the first time. The room was still thickly carpeted in green, shagged and soft. The doors to the closet and bathroom were still eggshell white, carved up with protection spells. The large, canopy bed with the sheer hanging over it was still in the center of the room, guarded on each side by a mahogany nightstand.

There was a vanity opposite the bed, beside her wardrobe. Once upon a time, Crea had curled in Nyx's lap as they looked at themselves in that very mirror, Crea giggling as Nyx painted her face. But those memories were jumbled up and dirty inside her head and she couldn't think about them without feeling a terrible weight on her heart.

_I don't belong here,_ she thought, feeling her lips tremble before the emotion was ruthlessly controlled. _I don't belong anywhere._

Suddenly dizzy and sick, she turned and headed for the balcony, pushing open the wide, glass double-doors. Cool air hit her face which was a relief. She came to the railing and gripped the cool metal, looking down below.

Beneath the Holy City gardens grew. Even in times of war, the gardens bloomed. The roses had just begun to appear on the bushes and their crimson petals were curled up, sleeping so peacefully that Crea was envious. The thick green grass glistened with night dew and she could hear the rustle of crickets as they frolicked below her.

She was so jealous. Jealous of the simple creatures in the garden who would never have their thoughts and minds stretched and torn apart. They would never know what it felt like to be violated, to have your body became a stranger. To have the one person you thought to give your heart to be the face that was used to hurt you.

Pain stabbed into her stomach and she had to tighten her hands on the rail to stay upright. It hurt so much to think about all that had been stolen from her. Taken from her without any struggle. She hadn't even been able to fight for what was hers.

Once the war was over, she told herself, wishing to just fade, she would leave both Nyx and Venn. She wouldn't burden them with what she had become. She wouldn't threaten them with her darkness, especially not tiny Merasaki. What kind of aunt would she be then?

The thought of leaving them hurt her more then thinking of what the Mage did to her. They were the stone in the shifting sands of her mind. Her anchor in the storm. Venn reminded her to be strong, to be capable, or risk hurting him. The thought losing him nearly drove her to madness.

But what could she do? She had already exposed Venn to that dark part of her heart. He already knew about the Mage.

_Venn_… she couldn't hurt Venn. That would be worse than any rape the Mage could give her.

A scream clogged her throat as a warm hand slid along her side, stopping at her stomach. She thought to spin and fight, but could only freeze as fingers spread out against her stomach, spanning her.

That touch. She _knew_ that touch.

Crea's eyes widen and she opened her mouth to speak, to order, to save, but her voice was lost in the feelings that swept through her. Fear, panic, grief. And lust. _Goddess help her,_ lust.

Her eyes struggled to stay open as warm feelings waged war with her dark ones. _Venn_, some part of her sighed, _Venn…_

Wordlessly, Venn brushed aside her blonde hair, revealing her earlobe. She felt his hot breath fanning the delicate skin he exposed and she couldn't stop the second gasp that rose up from her lips.

"Crea," Venn said softly against her earlobe, his teeth nearly grazing her skin. "I finally found you."

"Venn—" she finally managed, her voice throaty with her conflicting emotions. She held herself stiff because she was tempted to lean into him. He was just so warm and compressing that her body wanted to absorb his strength.

"You've been avoiding me," Venn accused lightly, promptly cutting her off. This time he bit down gently on her lobe. "Why?"

This time she lost the will to speak again. She could only stand perfectly still and feel his teeth inciting fire in her blood before her voice returned to her. This was _Venn_. And she had to _protect_ Venn.

"Leave," she commanded, hating that her voice was shaky rather than cold and dismissive. "Just leave me alone. Go."

"I don't think so," Venn answered in a light chuckle. "I know you don't want me to. You want me to stay don't you? Crea?"

A part of her was screaming _yes!_ while another was crying for her to run. She would only bring Venn pain. And then what would she be? She'd be worse than the Mage, hurting someone as pure as Venn.

But what he was doing wasn't very pure. His free hand began to slowly stroke her body, from her hip to her shoulders. Butterfly soft touches that burned up her skin in their tenderness. She had to bite back a moan.

"I hate what the Mage did to you," Venn told her softly, tenderly. "I'll kill him for it when we meet on the battlefield. But I'm not the Mage, Crea, and I'm tired of having you think that I am."

That was why he thought she was avoiding him? Because she saw him as the Mage? That wasn't it, at all, and she never, ever wanted him to think that. Nothing was his fault. If anything, he kept her going.

Then all thoughts were lost as she felt his tongue against her neck. The hot wetness had her arching her back to fit the long moan that tugged at her throat. Venn sensed her weakening and pressed his body fully against her, his long lines covering hers.

_Say something!_ her mind commanded her.

Biting down hard on her emotions she forced herself to rasp out, "That… isn't the real reason, Venn. It's not. It has nothing to do w—with you. Everything with me. He put something in _me_. I can't stand having that touch you."

Suddenly Venn wasn't touching her anymore and Crea told herself she was relieved even as hurt shimmered in her veins. She expelled a breath, ready to turn to watch him leave, to convince herself it was the right idea.

When Venn's hands were on her shoulders, whipping her around. Crea's head jerked with the backlash and remained in its painful position as Venn gave her two strong shakes, rare anger burning up in his gray eyes.

"That's _it_!? That's _why_!?" he demanded harshly, glaring down at her. Crea's eyes widened in surprise—the rage had never been so fully directed at her—and he saw just how young and innocent and vulnerable she looked.

Crea would never believe him, Venn knew, but that look told him what he already knew. The Mage might have scarred her badly, but he hadn't ruined all of her. The real Crea was in there somewhere, begging to be free and he'd be damned if Crea's misplaced protectiveness stopped that.

_She's just like Annityn,_ he realized, _she just needs to find her emotions again._

Well, he was going to help her with that. But first he was going to have to deal with his rage over her reasons. And there was no better way to deal with it then screaming at her.

"You think I'd let what he did to you touch us? Touch what we have?" he shouted at her, tightening his grip on her shoulders and made her wince. "Give me some credit, Crea. I wouldn't _let_ it taint us. _Damnit_, Crea, _damnit_!"

"He destroyed me!" Crea cried out, her voice high with more sadness than anger. "He got _inside_ me, inside my core and he tore me apart. The Mage destroyed me and made everything about me tainted. He got my memories!"

"Then make new ones!"

Tears suddenly crowded Crea's arms and she started to struggle against his furiously. "No!" she screeched and shot a hand out to hit him. But her clouded vision made it easy for Venn to dodge. "_No_! Just go away, Venn! Let me alone! Let go!"

But he didn't. Venn held on even as she tried kicking and clawing her way free. He said nothing to her, just changed his grip to her arms, and held her as she battered her fists against him, fighting herself more than him.

Then it happened. He could almost hear the snap as the dam gave out.

Crea was sinking to her knees and Venn went with her. Tears poured out of her eyes and she gripped his shirt, her body heaving with the strength of her tears. Venn's grip gentled and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her with his cheek pressed against her hair as she sobbed.

It was an act of purging. Crea sobbed and howled until she was choking back gags, until her throat was raw and empty and her stomach no longer tied in knots. Her face was caked in salt and her eyes were red-rimmed. She shook with the dryness of her grief and then went slack against Venn.

Patiently, Venn rubbed his hand through her hair, murmuring in his native tongue to soothe her.

"I—I don't want to hurt you," Crea said weakly, her voice hoarse from her sobbing. "Goddess, I don't want to hurt you, Venn. I love you so much and I don't—"

"Hey," Venn cut her off, tilting her chin up. She had said the magic words. _I love you_. "Knock it off. I can take care of myself."

He lowered his head, claiming her mouth in a gentle kiss. A great sigh rose up Crea's spine as she leaned into the soft kiss, opening her mouth to accept him. Venn kept it simple, twining his fingers in her golden, shimmering locks.

"Crea," he said as he pulled away, stroking her face. "Crea, I love you."

Then they kissed again and it was much wilder, more desperate. Tongue and hot and groping hands. He cupped the back of her neck, nearly trying to swallow her whole, his tongue working with hers in a time-worn ritual.

Crea found yet another way to purge herself of the Mage.

--&--

When Cyren had finished his story, Tage said nothing. Then he took one long swig of his ale, slamming the now empty glass onto the wooden table.

"Well," he said slowly. "That is _quite_ a tale."

"All of it is true," Roid assured the young man as he sat uncomfortably on the bench of the table. Aithne and Annityn were beside him, with Cyren sitting directly across from Tage.

The young general looked from Annityn to Roid and back again. Then he nodded slowly. "Yes, that's obvious. How could I argue that?" He glanced down at his drink, frowning thoughtfully. "Though I wish I had thought to bring another glass of ale. A story like this calls for it."

"General Yao?" Cyren said, leaning on his arms over the table. "You'll help us? Stop Hirmoyarbeshi?"

"I must admit I've been waiting for a chance like this for a long time, Lord Cyren," Tage agreed, leaning back a little. "And I've been working hard to turn the people's sympathy back to the Yoshimoros. They are more than willing to have you ascend the throne, I know. They'll fight for you."

A breath expelled between Cyren's lips and he grinned. "Good. Good. I'm glad they'll fight for me, _with_ me."

"I can rally your troops," Tage said as he stood, his face twisting into a small, confident smirk. "But it'll take a while. If I start now I can probably have us ready to go by midmorning."

"Midmorning?" Aithne echoed suddenly, her eyes widening in disturbance.

"That'll take too long," Cyren protested instantly. "Hirmoyarbeshi is going to go after the Holy City tomorrow. I'm sure of it."

"It's the best I can do, Lord Cyren," Tage replied. "The best I can offer."

"But—" Cyren started and Roid held up a clawed hand to hold his argument.

"General Yao is right, Cyren," Roid told the young boy calmly. "Midmorning would be a feat to pull off. This waiting is necessary. It's all we have."

A grin crossed Tage's face as Cyren huffed and crossed his arms, glancing away. It just seemed so odd to him to see his liege-lord back down from a fight.

"This day will go down in infamy," he said suddenly, still grinning. "A Metal Head joining forces with a king. You may not have been around during Sage-Harmona's reign," he said with an incline of his head to Roid, "but we have learned to distrust your kind."

Aithne glanced up suddenly, hurt shimmering in her eyes. Tage blinked at her for a moment then the young woman lowered her head again, glancing back toward the fire. Annityn spared her not a glance as she stood.

"We have no time for delay," she said coolly to him. "We must assemble the troops."

Instantly, instinctively, Tage's back stiffened. "I'll do it," he told her harshly. "If they see you with me they'll never believe. Cyren's side or not, you are still the enemy of the people, and the dog to Hirmoyarbeshi, in Sage-Harmona."

If his words hurt her, she gave no sign, even as Roid's eyes narrowed and Cyren frowned. "I understand." She sat back down.

Glaring at her, Tage walked away from the table. "There are spare rooms in the hallway beside this one," he told them. "You should rest. We'll have a long journey tomorrow."

"I will show them to you," Annityn offered and Tage sent her a scowl.

Then he left the room.

--&--

After a long, tiring day of council meetings, Jak wanted nothing more than to deposit his aching body on his bed and allow sweet oblivion to take him.

But while his body was more than willing to curl up and rest, his mind was not. It was a constant whirl of activity, jerking here and there. Jumbled thoughts of confusion and weariness.

Groaning, he leaned back against the wall of the darkened Holy City hallway. The cool marble felt comforting against his throbbing temples. He lifted a hand and rubbed at the pounding flesh, his eyes narrowing.

He just had no mind for it. For politics and battle strategies. He had always been a man that just _did it_, not _plan it_. Sitting and thinking it through just made him uncomfortable, fidgety and irritated.

The action. He had always craved it. Sitting still made him want to shout at the top of his lungs, throw his hands up and shout to the heavens for mercy.

All he could do now though, was wait. Wait for Hirmoyarbeshi—_the bastard_—to make his move. This wasn't Jak in a one-man war against the Metal Heads, or the Harpies, or whatever was an obstacle before him. This was a world preparing itself for the war that would decide the fate of its cities.

So he had to wait and let Gareth and Nik and Nyx plan their strategies. If they asked, he contributed, but otherwise he stood in the back and waited for the signal to start the fighting. That was when he would shine.

Hissing out a breath in pain, Jak pushed himself from the wall, stumbling along the hallway. Exhaustion seeped into his limbs but his mind refused to rest and he found himself standing in the kitchen.

There was already a small pitcher of water on one of the counters and Jak helped himself to the cool liquid. As it soothed his raw throat, Jak stepped into the galley of the Holy City.

And stopped.

Daxter sat at one of the tables in the galley, nursing an empty glass between his fingers. He was frowning and looked to be in deep thought.

It was a hard jolt right to Jak's stomach. Not because he had never seen Daxter so contemplative, well not all of it. It was because Daxter really was in the city. Sure, Ashelin had told him as much but it hadn't felt real to Jak since Daxter had never sought him out.

_Sought him out_… the duo they had been seemed so far away now.

Then the redhead looked up and met Jak's eyes. A smile crossed his features and for a moment he was almost the old Daxter again. "Hey, Jak," he greeted and pushed the glass away. "I heard you were here, and alive. Guess I wasn't surprised. You never seemed to be the type to die. Not to me."

They stood at opposite ends of the galley. Jak without the knowledge on how to move forward and Daxter unwilling.

"You look good," Daxter said suddenly, still grinning slightly. "Seventeen years hasn't changed you all that much. Lucky bastard."

A smile crossed his own lips as Jak took a seat opposite Daxter. "How you been, Dax?"

"Well enough," his friend answered with a shrug. Then slid his eyes back over to Jak's. "Seventeen years is an awfully long time, Jak… and I hear everyone's pissed off at you about it, too. But, hell, I've known you for about as long as I've been alive and I figure you've got your reasons for it."

Relief swarmed through Jak. Of course, Daxter was the one person who wouldn't ask him where he had been. Not Daxter. Never Daxter…

"Even if I'm curious as hell about why," Daxter went on. "But you've always had your reasons before so I figure you'll tell us about it when you're ready."

"I will," Jak assured him.

"Well then…" Daxter leaned back to settle the matter.

Silence stretched between them. And Jak was nearly disgusted to find himself groping for some way to start a conversation. This was _Daxter_, his oldest and best friend. Why was it like this?

All he could say, though, was, "I met your daughter. Maelia. She looks just like you."

Daxter's face dropped immediately and Jak knew he had said the wrong thing. "I never noticed. Goddess… she looks just like me and I… I never noticed. I never noticed my little girl."

Jak didn't know what to say. He would have, years ago, but not now. Now he was too distant from Daxter, too different. They couldn't have what they had had and a bitter taste rose up in his throat.

"It's just that after… after Lee died I couldn't. Something died _with_ him, Jak. Something important and when I—I saw Maelia, I couldn't. I was afraid. Afraid she'd be dead too and then she—she'd be just like Lee." He pressed his hands to his face and rubbed them. "And then you were gone and everything was just… just falling apart, you know? I couldn't do anything. All I could do was run away."

Again, he was lost for what to say. He wanted to comfort Daxter, soothe him, help him. He wished he had been there to help support Daxter, but that fateful mission had dragged him away and now… now…

Now he had missed an entire lifetime.

"I wish you had been there, Jak. Back then," Daxter told him, dropping his hands to the table. "You would've knocked me onto my ass and _then_ kicked my brain back to its senses." A self-mocking smile crossed his lips. "Guess I needed you back then… I wish you had been there, Jak."

Unable to say anything else to him, Jak glanced down at his palm. In the darkness it glowed silvery and translucent.

"I wish I had too," he answered.

* * *

**notes:** so, Daxter and Jak reunited. And somehow, I couldn't see Daxter really bashing Jak for leaving, just because he's Daxter. Plus, he's got a war and his daughter on his mind, right? Oh, and Tage! Yay, Tage!

And remember: feedback is always appreciate, even if it's small. Your support, or criticism, is what inspires me to keep writing!

**Act XXIII: **Tage doesn't like working with Annityn, and the feeling is mutual (well, kinda…). And war, finally!

**reviews**

**Specter Von Baron:** yes, I actually do kinda see the final battle as very "Lord of the Rings". Especially like the big battle in the "Two Towers".

**Chantz:** Ashelin and Torn, the definition of "diplomacy". :P I liked that they wailed on Jak. Ashelin still might not be so forgiving but now that Torn's beaten the tar out of Jak, they might be getting back to being friends! Yay!

**Carree:** of course, I'm glad you're enjoying it. Getting Torn and Ashelin right were hard, since obviously they were going to be royally pissed that Jak was alive after all this time, but at the same time, they had a war to worry about, you know?

**Xazz:** ah, it was good to put Nyx and Nik back together. And it was good to let Crea and Venn finally get somewhere. XD And I hope you enjoyed your time abroad?

**ChatterBox101:** I really like writing sibling relationships, in any terms. Loving ones, distant ones, hateful ones. I come from a big family… so I like families. And I can honestly say that Keira will wake up _soon_!


	23. Never Leave Me

**Disclaimer:** gonna have to say, ah, _no_

**Author's Notes:** there's actually only one thing to say. Yay for summer!

**warning(s):** ah, well there's a hint of non-consensual sex? Er, well kinda. It's so hard to explain with Annityn.

* * *

**Act XXIII: Never Leave Me **

Tage Yao was exhausted and ready to collapse when he strode back into the mess hall. Organizing an entire army of amateurs took time and patience, almost to an impossible degree when one was under a tight schedule. But he didn't mind. He loved the work, the pressure of it.

It was like a high. Getting things down under the narrow time opening, ordering a company into action, winning the day. That was what kept him as a general whenever he had thought about quitting—screw his father and his city and his damn duty.

There had never been any doubt in Tage's mind that this was what he had been born to do. To fight in this army, for this army, all in the name of the Yoshimoro family. His family had been doing it since Sage-Harmona had been erected from the ground. His father had died fighting for those ideals, ideals a young boy of thirteen couldn't understand but felt the echoes off it throughout his entire life.

Something tightened in Tage's throat. He didn't like to think about his father often. Not because it made him angry, or even terribly sad, those emotions had passed long ago. It just made him tired and a little miserable.

He had lost his father when he had been no more than a boy of thirteen. But he understood, even then, that what his father did was a noble thing, the right thing. And his young, grieving heart had been able to let him go.

Now his father's dream was coming true through him and it gave Tage a proud zing. He was putting a Yoshimoro on the throne, where they belonged, and his father's greatest wish would become true.

_I know you'd be proud of me, _Tage thought, thinking of the man.

First he was going to get some ale, and it was going to be strong ale. Quelling the nerves of the citizens of Sage-Harmona, promising to deliver to them the heir apparent, and dealing with the soldiers who had betrayed the Yoshimoros nearly a decade ago had taken a lot out of him.

But he was smiling.

Or he had been until he entered the mess hall.

Annityn had not retired like her charges. Even Roid the Metal Head had gone to a room provided for him, but Annityn stood awake, sitting at a table in the kitchen. She had a glass of water in her hands and was staring off into the distance, cold and emotionless as always.

The firelight played with her hair, highlighting her hair an orange tint like it would do with his. Those golden golem eyes of hers were like liquid ice, freezing him in the threshold, almost stealing his breath.

What, exactly, was he going to do with her?

His Lordship Cyren Yoshimoro had said that Annityn had sworn herself to him. And he had felt the desert magic burning up her neck, hadn't he?

Thinking about it had him glancing down at his fingers. He could almost still feel that tingling sensation. Whoever had cast that binding spell on Annityn had been strong. Tage was hardly a magickally-endowed person but even he had felt it.

Annityn lifted her head and glanced at him, eyes catching the light of the fire and nearly melting them to warmth. Something in Tage's gut tightened.

Yes, she was beautiful. There was no point in his denying it. He had known it since he had first met her. But she had always been his enemy—and still was his enemy—and he had grown to hate her for what she had done. Killed countless numbers at the flick of Hirmoyarbeshi's wrist.

How could a girl be so careless? She ended lives as if they had only been there for her to end. She would kill anything at her Master's command. Women, children, anything. If it was her Master's wish she would slaughter.

He hated what she was. What she had done. That her eyes were cold and aloof and that she was touched by nothing. He had sworn to himself over and over again that when the time for his coup came it was his sword that would taste her blood, and no one else's.

Now it appeared as if he would never be able to extract that long sought revenge.

That was why he was suddenly consumed with rage at her, he told himself, not because she looked almost unbearably beautiful sitting in the firelight. That had nothing to do with it. In fact, he refused to acknowledge the fact.

"General Yao," Annityn—known, before she had switched sides, as simply The Girl—greeted with a slight incline of her head. "Is there something you require?"

His boots stopped right in front of her. With Annityn sitting down, he towered above her. Hating the fact that she looked tiny and vulnerable like that, he scowled down at her.

"You were twelve when Hirmoyarbeshi introduced you to me," Tage told her, his face taut with anger. "I didn't understand then what you were. His killer. 'This is The Girl' he told me and pushed you forward. You were naked and pale and looked like a kitten being waned from milk for the very first time."

"That is an incorrect statement," Annityn pointed out, unmoved by his comments. "I was emotionless. Then."

"I suppose, but that's what you looked like to me. Then Hirmoyarbeshi told me you were to be his killing engine. The prototype for his superior breed of soldiers," Tage explained, remembering that day. Annityn, naked and stiff in front of him, uncaring that his older eyes racked upon her body. "I didn't understand it even then. You looked too young. And you looked right past me. But I was a lieutenant then."

It was too easy to remember her then. All those pale naked limbs as she stared at him as if he, or she, wasn't there. Answering only when Himroyarbeshi told her to do something, unquestioning, loyal to the death. It made him angry just thinking about it.

"I remember," Annityn answered with a small nod. "Hirmoyarbeshi said that he had high hopes for you. You appeared young to me at the time of our first meeting."

"Then, two weeks later, I incited my first coup," Tage went on as if she hadn't spoken. "I was young and brash and stupid. And it was a poorly thought out plan. I was just so mad at him, Hirmoyarbeshi. That it didn't seem to matter what I had to do to stop it."

He leaned his arms down on either side of her, palms gripping the table, and bent over. "But you stopped it, and easily. With nothing more than a few swipes of your dagger. I realized then, as you massacred men under Himroyarbeshi's orders, what you were."

"Yes," Annityn agreed.

"So why didn't you expose me?" he demanded to know, leaning his face into hers. "Expose me for all that I was? Kill me yourself even. You knew it was me. I was with the men you killed. But you let me go, let me live, and spoke not a word of it to Hirmoyarbeshi. Why?"

"My orders had been to halt the coup. Your men had been killed and so you could not incite your riot. Thus my duty had been served." She stood and began to brush passed him, immune to their close quarters. "You were no longer a threat."

Something inside him snapped and he grabbed her arm as she walked by him. He hauled her back in front of him gripping her one arm hard. Annityn didn't fight, merely stared up at him silently.

Tage nearly ground his teeth as he felt something hot coil in his gut at the way they were pressed together. She was long lines and limbs, a few inches shorter than he was, and pressed intimately against his body.

Damned if he let that get to him though.

"You're the threat now," he snapped at her, giving her a good shake for measure. One of his hands slipped up to wrap around her neck. "So, is this a plan of the Mage's? Get close to Cyren and then kill him?"

Suddenly, Annityn tilted forward, distracting Tage for merely a second. But a second was all Annityn needed. She twisted herself free and spun, snapping her long arm outwards. She swept it toward him, hand ready to deliver a punch to his face.

But Tage's hand came up and caught her wrist. Annityn free hand swung around and locked over his hand that went for the hilt of his sword.

She looked into his eyes calmly, the fire flickering behind. Even though she was shorter than him, it felt like she was crowding in on his space. Their bodies were almost pressed tautly together and he could feel the heat from her skin, proving to him she wasn't a machine.

"You're the threat," Annityn pointed out, surprising the hell out of him.

He let her go, pushing away in disgust. "I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, sincerely meaning it.

"You had plans to put Cyren's cousin on the throne," Annityn reminded him casually, backing away as well. Tage told himself he wasn't surprised that she had such personal knowledge about his plans, but he was.

"Yeah. So?"

"The cousin would have been little more than a puppet king," she went on, now coming closer, as if she had regained her footing. "You would have much power. Now that Cyren is ready to claim his Yoshimoro birthright, you have lost this power. It is possible you will kill to remain in a powerful standing."

"That's what you think?" Tage snarled, reaching for her again. Annityn let him grab her shoulders and pull her closer. "I thought the Mage made you smart. I'm not interested in power. Not one bit."

"It is a logical conclusion that you would be interested in such power," she returned coolly, staring into his eyes emotionlessly. "It is common for humans to seek to keep power once they have procured it."

"Well, I'm not," he told her and shook her again, watching the way her dark hair floated like wisps of silk across her pale shoulders. His hands were big across her arms, spanning her. "I don't want anything to do with what Cyren's getting. It's not something I'm after."

Annityn said nothing, just continued to stare at him. And it made him uncomfortable. She was a mirror, he thought, only reflecting, never giving anything away. He couldn't read her, had never been able to, and it was only now bothering him.

Was this women truly his enemy? Or his ally? It was impossible to tell, and Tage was a man who prided himself on his ability to read people.

He knew disgust colored his eyes, but he didn't bother hiding it. Annityn was used to seeing it in his eyes. Every time he had looked at her before this moment had been to spit some form of curse at her.

For a moment—a moment where he could not control himself—he almost could feel his arms bringing her closer, eager to feel her against him again. But common sense preserved and he kept his face a hard mask and pushed her away.

Without much movement, Annityn backed two feet away.

_Get a grip!_ he mentally shouted at himself. _She could still be an enemy! Do you remember what she has done to you? To your soldiers!_

The hate filled him again and whatever foolish attraction he had—and, honestly, he had felt those idiotic jolts of heat before—died to ashes. He glared at her, but Annityn seemed unfazed, merely lifting an eyebrow.

"Our common goal, General Yao," Annityn said casually as she took another step away from him. "Is Cyren's safety. A truce between us would be must beneficial to Cyren's ascent to his rightful throne."

"I _got_ that," Tage snapped, his eyes crackling darkly in his head. "But don't think for a moment, I trust you."

"Trust is not what is necessary," Annityn replied as she regained her footing. Very calmly, she started to walk passed him. "A truce is all that is needed, General Yao."

Without really realizing what he was doing, Tage was catching her upper arm in a steely grip. Annityn tilted her head to one side, looking up at him. His teeth grated in his jaw, the grinding loud in his head.

Something was demanding to know what he thought he was doing, and he had to admit he didn't really know. Everything he had hindered his life on—his father, his enemies, his beliefs—had been changed and the woman who had been his epitome of his enemy was now his ally.

It made her more human than she had ever been to him before and Tage wasn't sure what he was going to do about it. Annityn had killed too many of his dreams for him to just accept her allegiance.

And, maybe, just maybe, he was a little angry at himself because there was some small, nearly unnoticeable part of him, that was _relieved_ that Annityn wasn't his enemy, after all. He didn't have to kill her.

He hadn't wanted to.

How could he just accept? What did Cyren Yoshimoro expect of him when it came to hard, icy Annityn? His en—_damnit_—his ally.

"General Yao?" Annityn asked, unafraid.

Almost detached from his actions—and what a strange feeling _that_ was; Tage had always been in control of himself, his very life depended on—he watched as he brought her up hard against his body.

Annityn didn't flinch, and he wasn't surprised. Too much of her wasn't human for her to really ever feel. Tage had found that out years ago, when he had looked into her eyes and searched for any sign of emotion and humanistic traits… and finding nothing.

"What would you do if I said I wasn't willing to cooperate? Not with you, even if I supported Cyren?" Tage demanded, hating that she was tiny against his broad body. Annityn was tall, but her bones were almost delicate. But he sure wasn't going to do what he did years ago—asking himself how could someone so smooth and pure be so cruel and evil.

She said nothing, merely looked at him with her golden golem eyes. Tage wondered if Annityn could read minds, but discovered he didn't care.

"If I…" he paused, frowning down at her. His grip slackened only slightly, but Annityn did not move. "If I said I would only cooperate if you gave—gave your _body_ to me? You're a pretty girl, you know. What if that was the price of my cooperation? Would you do it?"

Again, there was only silence from her. But something inside him—something that was chivalrous and influenced by the small memories of his father—protested at the silence. Because they both knew what it meant.

"You would, wouldn't you? If that was what it took." He knew his face was disgusted, but there something close to admiration twisted his breast. "You're the most loyal person I've ever seen, Girl."

For the first time since Tage had ever met her, there was a reaction from her. Annityn's arm gave one quick jerk. Not her whole body, just her arm, but Tage was almost sure he saw something flash quickly in her eyes before dying.

Maybe Cyren had been right… maybe the Mage had had her under a spell, a sort emotional dampening spell.

Another part of him wanted to deny it, deny the notion that Annityn could possibly be human. Because if she was human, then everything he had done to her… it made him the evil one.

Unable to do anything else, he loosened his grip. But he didn't let her storm out. His finger ran absently down the side of her face.

There was something building up inside him. Something that made him sick and weary and tired. And enraged. Enraged for her because even though he was going to ask, he already knew the answer and it made him feral. Rabid.

"You le—Hirmoyarbeshi has touched you like that already, hasn't he?" There had been rumors—rumors he had ignored—that Hirmoyarbeshi had taken Annityn to his bed from the moment she had been risen by the Mage. He hadn't wanted to listen to them.

Annityn met his eyes and there was blankness in them. The firelight made them liquid gold. "Yes."

The feelings almost blew over, nearly controlling him. It was easy for Tage to imagine it. Hirmoyarbeshi—countless years older than Annityn—and Annityn, cold and under a spell, too dampened to say no.

When it had first happened, she must have been no more than thirteen.

And he was touching her. He was _touching_ her and thinking about her like Hirmoyarbeshi had. He hissed out a breath and dropped his hand away.

"I'm keeping my eye on you," Tage said in a slightly strained voice. He swallowed and forced those damned emotions under control. "So be careful how you step.""Very well, General Yao," Annityn said emotionlessly and walked to the door. For a moment, Tage nearly reached for her again, but forced himself to stand stone still.

_If she's my ally, I'd better start thinking of her that way…_

She pushed open the door and paused. "General Yao?" she called as she glanced at him over her shoulder. When Tage managed to raise his raging eyes to her, Annityn said calmly, "I would not have had sexual intercourse with you."

He could only goggle at her. "Yeah?"

"I do not like you." With that said, Annityn slipped into the darkness and left the room oddly empty of her presence. So very odd, because Annityn had never truly had much a presence before.

"I still don't like you, either," he said thoughtfully, knowing that she could still hear him.

And despite the grave circumstances, despite the major battle starting up tomorrow, despite the fact that Tage had hated the one girl who deserved nothing less than his uttermost pity, he found himself almost smiling.

Almost.

--&--

As Cyren dumped his aching body onto his bed in the soldiers' barracks, he wondered if it would always be like this.

Chances were that it wouldn't be. It would be harder. All Cyren had really done was meet with the people Tage thought would make the best leaders in the army. There had been no great speech, no massive meeting with his people, no nothing.

Yet, it was tiring already. Cyren could tell that the rest of his life would be one hectic day after another. He wasn't sure if he was ready for it yet, but he knew that he wouldn't stop until he had succeeded. This city, this once grand and glorious city, was all that he had left of his father, his mother, and his aunt.

Something deep, strong and powerful inside told him that he wasn't giving up that one last connection he had to the people he barely knew.

But tomorrow, they were going to war. And Cyren was going to lead them to it.

Could he do that? Cyren wasn't much of a warmonger. Not like Tage, who was the best general Cyren had ever met—not that he had met many—and he wasn't a warrior like Aithne who had so much zeal and fervor when she fought. He wanted peace and prosperity, not blood and death.

Tage Yao would be by Cyren's side, at least. And the older man seemed much more willing to fight than Cyren. Honestly, Cyren wasn't sure if he would be able to do anything without Tage.

He flopped himself onto his stomach, splaying his hands out against the stiff cotton of his bed. The room around him was dark, the small candle waning on the tiny nightstand in the corner the only light. It was small as well, but comforting. This room had hosted a soldier. Perhaps that soldier was an enemy, but the knowledge that someone had been in the room before Cyren comforted him.

Tomorrow everything would change. He would take up the mantle of the Yoshimoro family. It would be just a thought. He would be _heir apparent_. He would fight Hirmoyarbeshi, he would reclaim his throne.

Alone. He would be alone.

_What would Father do…_ Cyren frowned, realizing that he was thinking about Zen-Fai, not his true father.

There was a little resentment in him when he thought about Zen-Fai lying to him all these years, but it was almost gone as quickly as it came. Zen-Fai had been a loyal general, dedicated to those he served, and Cyren had been his Prince and he had done what he had to do to protect Cyren.

Cyren would fight for Zen-Fai too. For the city he loved so much.

But he couldn't help but wonder if Zen-Fai would always seem to be 'father' in his mind. If there would come a time when he accepted that Zen-Fai was not his blood father? Cyren didn't think so. Zen-Fai had raised him since he had been young and his heart refused to accept the fact that he hadn't been the man he had always imagined him to be.

Despite everything, Zen-Fai had raised him, had made him into the man he was today. Without Zen-Fai, Cyren wouldn't have made it out of Sage-Harmona alive. He understood just how much he owed Zen-Fai.

"_Tell my son, I love him…"_

Somewhere out there—somewhere in this city—was Zen-Fai's actual son and the man's dying wish was for Cyren to deliver a message to the man. Perhaps Tage would help him track down the son of Zen-Fai. Surely someone who had been such a strong protector of the Yoshimoros would be well known?

Suddenly, Cyren felt tired all over again. Emotionally wrecked. The world had begun a rapid spinning and he still hadn't gotten used to it. Every time he stopped to catch his breath, someone pounded into him and sent him spinning again.

Would things begin to make sense once the battle was over? Once Hirmoyarbeshi was brought to justice and Cyren had full claim of the throne, would he be able to find some peace in his raging heart or would emotions forever be a whirlwind of confusion and fear?

For a long moment, Cyren stared into the darkness, wishing selfishly to go back to what he had once been. Young and innocent all over again, unaware of the lies and the truth. Assured in who he was, what he was.

The boy he had been had been torn down. Now Cyren had to find some way to reconstruct himself into a man, and he would have to do it alone.

Silence stretched on for a long while, Cyren unable to find sleep. He lay out on his stomach, inhaling the frigid air, trying to become tired. But he wasn't tired. He was wired and filled with adrenaline. His brain was exhausted, but his body was charged.

Then he smelled her…

But before he could move, Aithne was on top of him, her thighs pressed against his sides, keeping him pressed into the mattress.

"Aithne," he managed to mutter softly, trying to gain leverage. The air was thick with her scent and Cyren's mind was dizzy with it. "What…?"

"Relax," Aithne murmured against his neck, her lips so close that his entire body tightened. "You looked like you needed company."

Yes, he had needed company, but he hadn't wanted to ask her. Not Aithne, because they both knew what they were giving up.

Now matter what happened, they both knew how it was going to end. Cyren's duty and loyalty was now to Sage-Harmona and Aithne would go back to Haven City. That was what was waiting for them at the end of their journey.

And Cyren might have loved Aithne so fully it felt like he would break without her, but he wasn't selfish enough to ask her to love him. He might have wanted it with his entire being, but he wouldn't ask for her. In the end, it would be too painful.

Aithne's hands rubbed skillfully against his shoulders, massaging away all the aches and pains in his tense bones. She lifted his shirt a little off his back, digging her fingers into the skin. Cyren's eyes drooped dozily.

"Cyren," she said softly and Cyren went tense against her as he felt her lips brush the skin between his shoulder blades. "Are you okay?"

He liked the way she pressed herself against him, liked the way she felt against him. They'd never been so close and it killed him to think that he would never be able to feel her again.

"I'm scared," he admitted, truly scared in more ways than one. Scared to rule. Scared how he'd handle never seeing her again. Aithne had been his world for so long and his heart was already near the breaking point with the thought that he'd never get to hold her, never get to kiss her, never get to tell her he loved her again.

"You're going to be a great leader," Aithne told him softly, her voice strained with emotions.

Her lips skimmed over more skin, trailing a small line of fire over his shoulders. He felt her lips against his neck and tried not to sigh. It was only going to end badly, he knew. Could he really let himself get so close to her and then deny himself the rest of his life? It was too much to bear.

Then her lips found his, chewing almost thoughtfully on his bottom lip.

It was too much. He just couldn't take it. Aithne was going to be out of his life soon enough. She was going to be a memory. But he wasn't ever going to stop loving her. Never ever.

And he couldn't resist. Maybe he was weak. He'd accept that because he needed Aithne. He needed to have some comfort when he was alone. When he was king of Sage-Harmona. He needed to have something of Aithne, something to cherish when she was long gone.

Groaning, he gave his body a mighty flip and slid Aithne under him. She went without protest, latching her lips back onto his, working at the fabric of his shirt tucked into his jeans. His fingers were shakily pushing the hips of her tight jeans down.

Aithne arched, groaning against his lips. It was such a hasty dance that Cyren could barely get his bearings. All he knew was that something inside of him was wild for her because he was never going to get to have her again.

_Oh Mar…_

"Aithne, Aithne." He tugged his lips away, ignoring the shrill, angry protest of his heart. He looked down at her, staring into her eyes as they glowed in the candlelight. He saw the need there, but he didn't want to hurt her. "We can't—"

But Aithne was ready for him. She caught his bottom lip with her teeth and tugged. The shot of fire that raced through his body silence Cyren and he felt his body pressed hers back down into the mattress.

"I'm never going to love someone else, Cyren," she told him simply, her eyes sincere and Cyren had to wonder when she had lost so much of her anger. When had she matured so much? "I don't want to be with anyone else but you."

When they started kissing again, Aithne was crying. Not big, heart-wrenching sobs. Just silent tears the rolled down her cheeks. Cyren wiped that away and kissed her tenderly, softly, with all the love he had for her. He rubbed his tongue against the seam of her lips and gained entrance. He tasted her, the inside of her mouth, and her plump lips and he knew it was never going to be enough.

They worked on each other's clothes, tugging the stretchy fabric off one another. Cyren's protests were long dead. Aithne had voiced Cyren's very thoughts and he could see nothing more he wanted to do than love Aithne, even if he couldn't keep her.

As Aithne sighed his name against his ear, Cyren worked off the last of their clothing and prayed that this wouldn't completely break them in a week's time. Then all thoughts but one left his mind.

Even if it was only for tonight, Cyren still needed Aithne to survive.

--&--

Hirmoyarbeshi had spent his entire life preparing for this night. The night where he stood on the cusp of victory.

A smile curved his lips as he leaned over the charts decorating his small, bare table in the center of his tent. A candle glowed on the table's corner, casting the entire tent into complete shadows.

There was no doubt—nor had there ever been any doubt—that he would take the Holy City. Hirmoyarbeshi would admit that the residents inside the fortified walls were strong and resilient, and stubborn enough to withhold their surrender, but Hirmoyarbeshi was _destined_ for this. For this moment.

Sage-Harmona would be the city he loved, the city he had sworn his life to, once more.

It would take only a few more days, even less, to gain his last foothold in the world. After the cities had been successfully subdued, he would seek out the remaining Metal Heads and see that their race was eradicated. Then he would deal with the small villages surrounding the area.

"Sir?" his general asked as he stepped into the room. "You called for me?"

"Yes," Hirmoyarbeshi turned from the charts he had memorized by heart and faced the younger man. "Fetch your strongest archer. Tell him to take this." From his robes he withdrew a slim parchment.

"Yes, sir," the general answered automatically and Hirmoyarbeshi was pleased. His soldiers had been trained well, unquestioning, loyal.

The world would follow after.

"Tell your archer to aim for the building hosting the housing of the nobility. I want this message to be delivered to Nikolas Mandrake, pro tempera leader of the Holy City."

"Understood, sir." The general turned to leave and Hirmoyarbeshi smiled, turning back to his world.

"Tomorrow is their last chance." The general's eyebrow raised and Hirmoyarbeshi couldn't help but chuckle. "The key to keep the things you claim is to show mercy. They have one day to yield to our arms. Then, on the coming dawn, if they do not we will attack."

"Of course, sir," the soldier said in a careful monotone.

"Your orders are, in the battle, to leave as little soldiers alive as possible," Hirmoyarbeshi went on, touching the mark of the Holy City on his map. "We don't want to risk an uprising once we have taken the city. Kill all the soldiers off, and leave the women and children."

Because the general understood that Hirmoyarbeshi didn't need his acknowledgement, he turned and left the Lord General to his work.

"War is bitter work," he said with a half smile, staring off into the distance. He knew that the Holy City wouldn't surrender. Nikolas Mandrake was a Sage-Harmona soldier and he would keep his back stiff.

That was what Hirmoyarbeshi had been hoping for.

"When we slaughter the Holy City soldiers the world will know that no one can stand between us and our destiny," he added to no one in particular. "They will be the necessary sacrifice for the glory of Sage-Harmona."

The candle flickered out and Hirmoyarbeshi shuffled around in the darkness, laying upon his cot and staring up at the darkened ceiling. There was a pleased little smile on his lips. For so long that thought had been a dream, and now it was finally here.

Soon the world would be Sage-Harmona's, as it should rightly be. He had come out of the womb destined to fight for Sage-Harmona's rights. And he was prepared to do anything, _anything_, for the city he loved more than anything else in the world.

Countless people would die next dawn. Hirmoyarbeshi was willing to make the sacrifice. He was willing to sacrifice life and limb to gain what belonged to Sage-Harmona.

Despite the blood he knew he would bathe himself in during the coming battle, Hirmoyarbeshi slept well that night.

--&--

The arrow was found by Nik, walking the high, circular balcony around the tower that marked the chambers of those who lived in the palace. The frigid night air, and the powerful moon, had managed to calm him.

No, that was a lie. He wasn't calm at all. He was enraged. He could easily make out the dark tents propped up on the white sand. He wanted to leap onto his horse and charge into battle. He wanted to fight, his body was taut for it.

But he couldn't make a move, he knew that. It would be foolish. They needed Cyren Yoshimoro and the troop he would, hopefully, bring.

They all knew that Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi was toying with them, drawing out the coming of his attack to make them nervous, but Nik prayed that it worked against him in the end. Every minute that Hirmoyarbeshi delayed was another minute the reinforcements got closer.

For now, Nik would have to be content. Everyone was safe. Nyx had returned to him, Jak Mar had risen from the dead, and Gareth had been restored to his place as king. It might have all looked bleak in the face of an oncoming brutal battle, but Nik had learned to take what he could get.

Still, Nik had decided to take a post on the watchtower, despite Nyx's worry that he would only drive himself to madness. It would have been a pleasure to fall into bed with her—he had missed that so much—but he knew that he would lay awake long into the darkness, worrying for their family.

Nyx could make herself go to sleep. It was part of her training. She might have been just as wrought with worries as he was, but a fatigued spy was as good as dead. She had learned to force herself to close her eyes and sleep. Nik did not have that skill.

So he kissed and hugged and held Nyx until she made herself sleep. Then he had slipped out of bed and went to the watchtower, intending to the prowl the stone walls until he had walked off enough of his energy.

He was looking out at the Sage-Harmona tents when there was a soft whistle in the air. Instantly, Nik ducked, but the arrow would have missed his head by more than a foot. Its target was the stone walls and it struck, embedding itself between two stones.

The sword Nik had drawn was still in his hand as he pushed himself cautiously to his feet. He scanned the dark world around him for an enemy, but found none. Still tentative, he backed up to the wall, yanked the arrow out of its mark.

A little slip of paper hit the floor. Sheathing his sword, Nik bent down and retrieved it. It was a simple, sturdy piece of parchment, one that Nik himself would have written on. But it made dread rise up in his stomach.

In clear black ink, written in an unburdened hand, with a direct purpose were two sentences that made Nik's heart freeze in fear.

_The battle comes next dawn. Surrender while you have the chance._

His first thought was, and always would be, Nyx and Merasaki. His first instinct, as husband and father, was to find them and bring them to safety. To get them out of the city before they were killed. Nik wouldn't be able to survive if anything were to happen to them.

Then he realized that there was no safe place anymore. The Holy City was the last haven for those who opposed Hirmoyarbeshi. If they failed to fight back Sage-Harmona… everything he held dear would be dead and destroyed.

Without a moment's pause, he was racing down to Gareth. He bypassed the many rooms he had been patrolling and headed right for the medical bay. Gareth had hardly left the room since he had returned home.

The room was dark when he entered but Gareth knew it was him instantly. He rose to his feet and watched as his general approached.

"Nik, what is it?"

"We've got a problem," Nik replied and handed over the parchment.

Gareth read it over once. His eyes widened and he read it again. When comprehension finally brightened his eyes, Gareth paled. Instantly, his head twisted around to Sala and Nik knew he was thinking the same thing: _take Sala and Sedet and run_.

Then, just like Nik had, Gareth came to understand that the Holy City was it.

"We need to call an emergency meeting," Gareth said slowly. "_Everyone_. Jak Mar right down to Venn. Bring Ashelin and Torn. Bring whoever. Just do it."

Even as Nik went to obey, Gareth turned to Sala and ran one finger down her face before leaving.

--&--

As Crea slept, Venn stared out into the darkness of the room. She was wrapped up in his arms, her head tucked against his shoulder, and his back was propped up against the top headboard.

Her face was peaceful and Venn had stayed awake just to watch it. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had seen her so relaxed.

She was a hard woman, had had to be a hard woman to survive. Venn knew that, and understood that, but he also knew that there was softness in her. And he was determined that she showed it to him.

Crea sighed softly, shifting a little in his arms, and Venn brought her closer, pressing a kiss down on her forehead. She murmured something before stilling.

He could touch her, that was what amazed Venn. He could touch her and feel her respond to him, a goal that had seemed too far to reach merely days ago. He could kiss her and have her kiss him back.

There were still a number of hurdles for them to cross, Venn knew that, but the biggest one had been crossed. She was in his arms willingly and the bastard who had done so much damage to her no longer stood between them.

Oh, Venn would make this Mage bleed well enough, but the little bastard no longer barred Crea from him.

Carefully, so not to wake her, Venn brought a sheet over her shoulders. She was perfect in every way to him. He had never seen a creature more beautiful than the woman he held in his arms. He never wanted to let her go, he never wanted the night to end.

But daylight was already slipping in through Crea's open balcony, a little misty as it came in through the sheer canopy surrounding Crea's bed.

From his propped position he could make out the many pieces of fabric strewn about the floor. It made him smile. They had been wild as they had stumbled into Crea's room, desperate to touch and taste, to have what had been denied to them for too long.

Now Crea was, finally, Venn's and he wasn't ever going to let her go. No matter what she did, or what she said, he wasn't going to let her push him away.

Gently, he cupped her face, staring down into her peaceful features. He decided that he would give her a few more minutes before rousing her for another round. He couldn't get enough of touching her, of feeling her silky skin. And he was pleased to think that he never would.

Because he planned to be with her a long time.

Just as he thought it, Crea's eye fluttered. Her slender hands run up his arms to his shoulders, cupping them. She murmured his name as she drew in focus.

When he saw the look in her eyes, Venn worried that Crea was going to start crying again. He had wanted her to cry the night before, but he didn't know if could just sit and hold her while she started sobbing again.

Instead, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"I told you that what—" he began, nearly enraged with her all over again. If she told him that she was sorry about what had happened last night he was going to shake her until her teeth rattled.

"No, I'm sorry I… I should've told you sooner." Crea gnawed on her lip in a rare move of weakness and he wondered if it had something to do with coming to terms with what had happened to her. "Maybe."

He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb down across her cheek. "You did what you had to do to survive, Crea. Do I wish you would have told me? Yeah. But I get why you didn't. I don't blame you. I'm just glad… glad I'm here for you. I always will be." He kissed her softly, lovingly on her lips, and looked back down into her eyes. "And I swear, I'm going to kill the Mage."

"Not if I get to him first."

And Crea was the Crea he had come to know, and love, over a decade. He saw the fierceness that had become a part of her return to her eyes. He saw the hate and rage and grief and bitterness at what had been done to her. And he knew that she was absolutely serious in what she said.

Without saying anything, he kissed her again, sealing her mouth closed. They slid back down onto her bed, Venn sliding Crea underneath him, caging her in his arms. Crea mumbled her pleasure against his mouth, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully before twining her tongue with his.

Venn didn't want her thinking about the Mage anymore than he wanted to. The point where they both sought their revenge against the Mage was coming soon, but he didn't want any of them to think about it. He didn't it tainting what they were feeling right now. He needed it to just be him and Crea.

She arched up into him and he bent down to tug the blanket from her body—

Just as Nik stormed in.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them were truly embarrassed. Crea might have looked a little sheepish, not much, as she pulled her face away. Venn just looked put out as he raised his head to glare at his half-brother.

"Get off her," Nik ordered curtly and the tone of his voice had Venn on edge. It wasn't the easy going manner he was used to. Nik was all business. "Meet us in the war room."

They waited until he left again to move. And even then they lingered, clinging and kissing, little strokes and pats. The danger was finally returned to them now, and after a night so wondrous, it was almost too painful to bear.

He watched as Crea dressed, pulling on her hat. He watched her and felt his chest tighten. They were both going to survive this. He was going to make sure of that. He didn't care what it took, he was going to make sure Crea lived through this. And he was going to make sure he lived through this.

Then they would go back to their normal life, only together.

"What?" Crea asked as she caught him looking at her, sending a cool look. With a grin, Venn stood, slid on his shirt, and approached her.

"You're beautiful," he told her with such honest sincerity it broke both their hearts. He slanted his mouth against her again, trying her lips into his mouth, kissing and stroking with his skillful tongue.

"Venn," she sighed when they parted, gripping him like a life line. "I love you."

"I know," he answered and kissed her fiercely this time, his heart pounding wildly against his. "I love you, too."

"Promise me, promise me," Crea began and broke off, frowning as she looked away from him, not sure what she wanted to say.

But Venn knew. Because he was thinking the same thing she was. _You have to live through this. I need you to promise me._ But he already knew they were going to make it through the battle. His heart knew it, even if his brain doubted and worried. He'd die before he let anything hurt Crea again.

She slid her hand into his and managed a small smile for him. But the small smile was a big thing. Crea hadn't smiled at him in so long and it made his heart trip to see it aimed at him. How long had he yearned for her to look so lovingly at him?

"You're mine, from here on in," Venn told her, his voice fiercely possessive. He freed his hand so he could grip her shoulders. "You understand? We're in this together. Until the end of time. There isn't an out. We desert people mate for life."

"I do too," Crea answered softly and freed herself. Her smile was a little brighter this time. "Let's go before Nyx kills us for being late."

Nyx did send them both an irritated look as they entered the room. She, Gareth, Nik, Jak, Torn, and Ashelin were already going over the tiny parchment spread out on the table before them. All faces were taut with anger and worry.

"We have a day," Nik filled them in as Crea and Venn approached. "A day to surrender before Hirmoyarbeshi attacks."

"We won't, of course," Gareth put in instantly, frowning deeply at the paper before him. He plucked it up with two fingers, looking ready to tear it apart. "We have to get the troops ready, _today_. We can't count on Cyren getting here before dawn. We need to hold Hirmoyarbeshi off until the reinforcements arrive."

Angry, pent-up and antsy, Jak slapped an open hand against the wood of the table they were all hunched over. "Why doesn't he just attack now, _damnit_? Get it over with? I'm so tired of this. This freaking waiting."

"He's toying with us," Nyx answered softly, her rage just as there as Jak's but quieter, more controlled. "We know that tomorrow we're going to be attacked. We know that we're out numbered. He's putting fear and doubt into us."

"The rat bastard," Torn said fiercely. "I'd say take our forces and attack him now if we had more men. Or if we had the moral support of the soldiers."

"They're all afraid," Ashelin added grimly, rubbing her chin in thought. "Deathly afraid. No one really thinks they're coming out of this battle alive. It's demoralizing and it'll make the fighting even worse."

"But they'll fight when it comes down to it," Nik told them, his face brightly proud. "I trained them myself. I know they'll all pull their weight."

"And we have the Metal Heads," Nyx agreed.

"All we can do for now," Ashelin said softly, meeting eyes with her husband. "Is wait. We can't move. It'll be suicide."

"I _hate_ waiting," Jak snapped and whirled around, ready to storm out. "Tell me when we're going to do something."

He paused as he passed Crea and their eyes meet. For a moment, Jak smiled at her, maybe seeing the peace in there. Then he was frowning again, stomping out of the room, looking about ready to blow anything in his way to pieces.

Grimly, Crea looked over at Venn.

"It's working," she said.

--&--

"Lord Cyren? Lord Cyren."

There was something poking Cyren lightly in his shoulder. He grumbled under his breath, swatting at it, and rolled fully onto his stomach. Aithne was half covered by his body, her hair tickling his chest.

"Oh for—_Lord Cyren_. Wake up!" This time the poke was hard and sharp, digging right into his bones.

Muffling his yelp—Aithne had gotten very little sleep last night—Cyren lifted his head from his pillow, squinting into the early morning light. His tired eyes could only just make out Tage's tall, firm form but it was enough to have him groan.

"Wh—what?" he managed dozily, momentarily forgetting just who, and what, he was. The warmth of Aithne beneath him, the memory of last night, was enough for Cyren's mind to paint him the picture of home—Haven City—and the idea that somehow both he and Aithne were where he always wanted them to be, without the war and death that had been dogging their heels.

Then it all came flooding back to him. The morning after glow drained from his body, leaving him hollow and aching, and a chill sweep across the warmth and destroyed whatever blissful moment he had been having.

Things were forever inherently different from what they had been just a few weeks ago. Cyren could never just be a mere boy again. And he could never truly have Aithne, no matter how much his body yearned to the contrary.

"The army's ready. If we're to get to the Holy City before Hirmoyarbeshi attacks, we must leave soon," Tage told him, and glanced over at Aithne's naked form, tucked carefully under Cyren's arm. "I'll wait for you outside."

Cyren waited for the door to shut once more before shifting. He did so slowly, carefully, and without a sound. Aithne needed whatever rest she could get. They would be riding hard and fast today, and he had kept her up most of the night.

But once he was safely far enough to rise to a sitting position on the bed, he couldn't stop himself from looking down at her. The blonde hair, tipped with blue, skimming her shoulder blades. The pristine sheet hooked low on her back. Cyren was humbled looking at her, this precious woman, the only thing he had ever truly wanted.

Pain clinched once more at his heart, but he pushed it aside. He couldn't think about it. Touching Aithne, being with Aithne, loving Aithne had made Cyren realize that if he thought about the separation to come, there would be no sanity in him. He would be utterly, and completely destroyed.

_I wish,_ he thought, his chest heaving with great sadness, _that we could lay like this forever, Aithne. I wish we could pretend there's no outside world. That no one could touch us. Not where we are._

He wasn't a fool. He knew there was an outside world. It beckoned him even now.

Quietly, he bent down and brushed a kiss over Aithne's bare shoulder. Just a simple, butterfly soft caress of his lips on her skin. It was these moments he was going to cherish. These moments that he would use to comfort him in the lonely days that would follow. Cyren was aware that he was going to need each and every one of them.

There wasn't ever going to be a time when he was strong enough to not need her.

Aithne mumbled sleepily, nearly rousing, and Cyren withdrew his lips. He messaged her shoulder softly, holding his breath until he felt her go under the spell of sleep again. Then he slid out from the bed.

"Sleep," he whispered to her, his eyes lapping up the image she made. Tussled hair, twisted sheets, perfectly outlined body. It made Cyren's chest and stomach ache just to look at her. At everything he was giving up.

She did and that was a relief. Cyren wasn't exactly sure what he would say—what he could say—to Aithne right now. Wasn't sure what would fit for what they felt, what would be right for the moment. He knew that maybe he would never know and that he would just have to deal with it.

As quietly as he could, Cyren dressed, feeling that weight that Aithne helped escape earlier return, ten fold. He stifled a groan under his hand, suddenly unbearably tired and nervous. Then he went to find Tage.

Cyren didn't have to go far. Tage was waiting just a few feet away from his door, casually reclining against the wall with a foot propped up against it for balance.

When Cyren approached, Tage didn't say anything and Cyren was thankful. Whatever was going on between him and Aithne was between him and Aithne. He didn't want to drag anyone else into it. It was their business. No one else's.

"The people are nervous," Tage said instead, leading Cyren down the halls, out of the soldier's barracks, and toward the Sage-Harmona palace. "I've assembled them all in the entrance hall of the palace… but Lord Cyren, they're all farmers, peasants, those that Hirmoyarbeshi didn't want in his army. They'll fight for you but they'll be afraid. Afraid to die. Afraid to lose."

"What do you want me to do?" Cyren asked, even more tired.

"Talk to them," Tage suggested, simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world for him to do. "They're fighting for you. Seeing you will reassure them. Reassure them that they're fighting for something real, solid."

"I don't know what to say," Cyren pointed out lamely.

"You will," Tage returned instantly, his eyes half-smiling. "It's in your blood."

It didn't feel that way, even as Tage guided him back into the palace. Cyren could hear them even before they entered the large entranceway of the palace. There were close to a thousand citizens there, all armed with dull swords that likely hadn't seen battle in years. And it made Cyren's gut clench to think that he was the one that was sending them into a battle.

The crowd fell silent as Tage brought Cyren in. He felt the eyes on him, all the people staring at him with hope and aspirations. Needs. He wanted to tremble and he wanted to run. But a part of him, a stronger part, refused to back down. He would stand tall. He would stand strong.

Annityn was the only thing baring him from the crowd, but he supposed Annityn would always be enough. She was thin but she carried so much presence. Power seemed to ripple off her in waves.

Instinctively, he eyes searched for Roid. Cyren couldn't see the Metal Head and it made him worry a little, not for his safety so much as Roid. It had only been a few weeks since he and Roid had started their journey together, but it seemed like years and years, and it seemed impossible to be without having Roid in his eyesight.

"He is in the shadows, at the back," Annityn answered, stepping forward and putting her lips close to his ear, so only he could hear. "It is not wise to keep him in sight of others."

As Cyren nodded in acceptance, Tage frowned at Annityn. She looked over at him, then looked back at Cyren. Wordlessly, she stepped aside.

Beside her there was a small stand used as a makeshift platform. Annityn waited patiently for Cyren to approach, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes calm and cold as she regarded him. Cyren came up to her side and Annityn stepped away, giving him free rein over the crowd.

The hushed silence of the crowd unnerved Cyren, made his gut clench with frantic butterflies. They were all looking at him, all waiting for him to speak. Cyren felt the slick bile in his throat rise up and for a moment he wanted to do nothing more than run, far, far away. But he couldn't.

_Zen-Fai._ _Zen-Fai would tell me what to do._

So he took the makeshift platform, towering over all those that had come to see him. He felt each of their eyes on him, but suddenly the nerves died down.

Now that he was here, now that he was looking at all of them—_his people_—Cyren felt strength well up through his veins. Somehow, despite all his worries and doubts, his life had lined up and this moment fit perfectly. He could do this. _He could do this._

"My name," he began slowly, his voice stronger, wiser, than it had ever been before. "My name is Cyren Yoshimoro and I am the son of Quintin and Ginyrina Yoshimoro. Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi thought me dead, thought he had killed me that night nearly a decade ago. He thought he had succeeded in wiping out all of the Yoshimoro line. But he didn't. I stand before you today because strong men, brave men, sacrificed everything to see me safe. And I stand before you now, knowing that I will do anything to take back what has been taken from _us_. Us, the people of this city. Those who love it. Hirmoyarbeshi is no better than a dictator and he does not deserve that which he has taken from you. Help me, help this city reclaim what belongs to it. It's peace, it's freedom. I'm not your king, not yet, I'm merely a man who has learned of his heritage, who understands what Sage-Harmona once stood for. And I want it back. Hirmoyarbeshi has not right to take that from us!

"I ask you now to see me not as your king, but as a mere man who wishes to fight beside you in a deadly battle. A man who wishes to sacrifice like those who came before him had. A man who wishes to stay true to what the Yoshimoros envisioned for their city. Stand with me, as I stand with Sage-Harmona, and I _know_ we can drive back Hirmoyarbeshi. He will throw everything he has at us, but we will win because our will is stronger, we will conquer him. Together. As one. As Sage-Harmona. Will you stand with me? Will you stand with Cyren Yoshimoro?"

For a moment there was only silence in the crowd. But somehow, Cyren did not lose his confidence. His heart was swelled up and he knew everything he had said, his speech, had been right. He couldn't get rid of the confidence, not even if he wanted to.

Then the cheer rose up. It swept over the crowd like a wave, the sound nearly deafening. The hands were rising in the air, the weapons swinging out. The cheers made something in Cyren's heart burst and he knew, he _knew_, he truly didn't want to be anywhere else.

In that moment, Cyren knew what his destiny was.

He turned to Tage and Annityn and saw that Aithne now stood with them, fully dressed, and looking at him as if she had never truly seen him before. The confidence in Cyren's chest didn't diminish—nor did his sudden notion that _this_ was where he belonged—but he felt the heavy burden of the sacrifice added then.

"That was amazing," Aithne managed to breath as he approached, her hands instantly snagging his arms. "I've never, never—"

"Well spoken," Annityn finished for her, those golden golem eyes of hers a little different this time. A little proud.

"You'll make… make a fine king," Aithne said softly and Cyren gave a strangled breath, crushing her in the span of his arms. The cheer became even higher, but Cyren and Aithne only had eyes for each other.

Cyren committed the image of her—Aithne, her eyes wet and her lips parted and her face needy—to his mind because he knew that in no less than a week she would be gone. Long gone, and he would be alone.

Gently, she brushed her lips against his and Cyren responded, holding her even closer. He didn't want to let her go, even though he knew he would have to in mere seconds. But he wanted to keep Aithne by his side forever, no matter how selfish he was being.

How could anyone expect him to finally have what he had yearned for all these years and then merely give it all up?

"Aithne—" he began hoarsely, trying to say all the things that needed to be said in what time they had left.

"Sorry," Tage interrupted and Cyren knew he truly was. "But we need to go. It'll take us close to a day to reach Sage-Harmona. If we want to be able to offer them any help we had better start now."

"I will assemble the troops," Annityn said and disappeared into the crowd. The cheer silenced and everyone began to file out of the entranceway, a little weary at following Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi's former killing engine.

But they did anyway.

Aithne disentangled herself from Cyren's arms, sent him a small smile, and followed the rest. Tage placed a hand on Cyren's shoulder and guided him in the opposite direction, back toward the barracks.

"You'll ride with me, in the front. This is the fastest way there," Tage added and said nothing more when Cyren remained silent. He understood what Cyren was feeling.

Wordless, Cyren walked to his destiny.

--&--

The medic bay was kept dark. There was no real reason given to why, it was just a tradition. The Mages had emptied out a day ago, sending the few residents it had hosted home.

Now, only two remained.

One was Sala of Rye, the queen of the Holy City, breathing quietly in her bed. The Mages had reported that she was making progress to healing from the wounds the poison of Hirmoyarbeshi had inflicted upon her. The date for her true revival was any day now. Whenever her body was ready.

The other woman was named Keira Hagai Mar, and she was the descendent of the very Goddess who had created the Holy City in a time of war and need, to protect those from the wrath of the goddess of Chaos. Now it protected Keira like she had once protected it.

Beside Keira resided Jak Mar, the husband, the hero, the man everyone had thought to be dead. The man who gods and mortals alike looked to as a powerful force. The man who had fought countless battles to have peace and happiness. And the man who had given it all up to protect those he loved.

Jak Mar's hand was closed over Keira's.

"The Healers say that you're going to be just fine," Jak said to Keira, his voice, almost coaxing. His eyes were unreable as he held his wife's hand. "Any day now, they say, you're just going to wake up and be fine."

Keira, of course, said nothing. She just continued to look pale and weak and completely vulnerable. But Jak kept on talking to her, well aware that she couldn't even hear him anymore. He didn't care. He wasn't going to leave her. Never again.

"When you wake up, you can yell and scream at me all you want. I won't care, I promise. You just have to wake up first. I need you to wake up." His free hand smoothed her hair over her forehead. "We'll talk too. I'll tell you everything."

He exhaled a breath in the silence, gripping her hand tightly. He was so afraid that if he let her go, Keira would disappear. Just fade from existence. He couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen.

The door to the medical bay swung open and Jak felt the cords in his back tighten. He knew exactly who those footsteps belonged to. Calmly, carefully, his lifted his head to watch Sig approach.

Keira's biological father met Jak's eyes, a little forcefully, a little sadly. Then he glanced over at Keira and his wind-torn face softened. With his Wastelander gear clanking, he walked the last few steps to them.

For a moment, they were both silent, watching the steady rise and fall of Keira's chest. Sig's attention then turned to him.

"I may never be able to forgive you, ya know?" Sig said, quietly, as if afraid he would awaken Keira. "Runnin' off like you did."

Jak wasn't looking for forgiveness. He wasn't looking for understanding. He might have wanted them, but he knew better than to look for them.

"But Keira loves you," Sig went on, glancing down at the young woman in question. "Never really stopped. And if I went around hating you all the time, chili pepper, that would just eat her up. And that girl's been through enough as it is."

"What do you want me to do Sig?" Jak demanded, trying to keep the strain and pain from his voice.

"We'll be civil, if we can't be anything else. For Keira. I think we can both manage that." Sig's face hardened for a moment, and he looked like the warrior he had been when Jak had first met him. "They killed Samos. Those Metal Heads did, but I guess it was more Sage-Harmona's doing then theirs? Guess I'll give _them_ hell instead."

All Jak could manage was a small nod.

"Well, here then. Managed to get out it of the fire." From his back, Sig withdrew a sword. "You even remember how to fight with it, chili pepper?"

How could he forget? This was the Virgae-Mors sword, forged by the Goddess for her mortal lover. Used to defeat the same man when he turned to evil. It hummed with power and familiarity when Jak held it in his hand, a line of fire shooting up his arm. The bright silver glowed against his silvery palm.

"Yeah," he said softly. "I remember."

"Then that's all I need to say." With one last nod to Jak, Sig turned back to the doors. On his way out, he paused. "You realize, cherry, that if you die before Keira can get to you I'll chase your sorry ass all the way up to heaven myself, right?"

"I won't," Jak said and it was a promise. Both men got that. Sig, saying nothing, went back to walk out the door. Jak watched for a moment before turning back to Keira, covering her hand with the palm that glowed silver.

Keira sucked in a breath and Jak managed to blink.

"I'll never leave you again," he swore softly to her, lifting his hand and rubbing her forehead. The glowing silver left no residue but he prayed that she at least could feel the warmth of it.

At the front of the room, there was a small clank of metal against stone. Jak twisted around to find the cause of the sound. He knew instantly what it had been.

Sig had placed Keira's glaive against the wall. The elegant curved blade glowed even in the darkness. The weapon of the daughter of the Goddess herself, it was almost as ancient as Jak's Virgae-Mors sword, and just as powerful.

Did Sig honestly think that Keira was going to be able to fight? Jak doubted—even if he would never truly admit it—that Keira would wake up anytime soon.

But he stood and walked over to the glaive. He closed his hand over the smooth, slim handle of the blade, the magickal zing of power answering him here, too. He twirled it once, imaging Keira wielding it, like she had when they had been younger. And the ache in his chest deepened.

Unable to stand the memories—memories of Keira, before everything else had gotten in the way—Jak put the glaive back on its spot on the wall.

On her bed, Keira's hand twitched.

--&--

Moving an entire army was no easy task, even with Cyren's powerful speech behind it. People had to get ready, ready to move and ready to fight. But, in Tage's mind, they did it well. By midmorning they were out and trekking across the sand.

He had placed Annityn at the front, reluctantly trusting her honed skills to warn them of any approaching enemies. Tage did not forget, even for an instance, that there was still one major enemy they had to deal with.

The Mage was still in Sage-Harmona and it would only take him a few hours to realize that Tage was a traitor, that Cyren was alive, and that the citizens were now marching to defend the Holy City.

Tage might have hated the Mage, but he wasn't foolish enough to deny those ominous odds.

Cyren rode beside Aithne, and Roid the very strange Metal Head, was just above his head. Tage knew that Roid put people on edge, but Cyren was a beacon of hope, a light in the darkness, and they were willing to follow him.

"Anything!?" Tage shouted up to Roid and was rewarded with a mere shake of the glowing skull. Tage understood that Roid seemed to have his own agenda, but as long as it kept Cyren safe he truly didn't care what it was.

Silver glinted in his eyes and Tage winced, looking over for its source. It was Cyren, twirling his medallion between his fingers as his horse cantered on. There was a small, thoughtful frown on his face.

His hands yanked on his reins and his warhorse halted. As Aithne and Cyren approached, Tage met the girl's eyes. Aithne nodded, glancing once over at Cyren, her fierce face softening, and pushed her horse to the front of the line, sending Tage an expectant glance as she went.

"Is something wrong, Lord Cyren?" Tage asked when they were alone, keeping his eye on Aithne's back as she guided a woman back into her line.

As if realizing he was there for the first time, Cyren stared at him. His hands instantly dropped the medallion and a sad, far off look appeared on his face. For a long moment, they were both silent, with only the sound of the wind through the sand and the pat of boots on grainy ground.

Then, Cyren asked, "How did you know I was a Yoshimoro? When we met the first time in Sage-Harmona?"

Sighing, Tage lifted a finger and pointed it at the medallion.

"What if I had stolen it? Or just found it?"

That caused Tage to laugh out loud, throwing his head back and howling into the air. "Lord Cyren, it was _my_ father's duty to protect the medallion until you were old enough to claim your birthright. If you had died, my father would have destroyed it."

Cyren's eyes widened and he stared at Tage as if he was truly was seeing him for the first time. And Tage supposed he was, seeing the subtle similarities. The eye color. The hair color. The shape of the face.

To make it plain, Tage added, "My father's duty was to protect you. It was his sole meaning in life." A half-smile formed on Tage's face as Cyren paled. "His name was Zen-Fai Yao. He was a faithful general to the Yoshimoros. He became your guardian when you were born. I was about four."

There, he had said it. Zen-Fai Yao, his father, the loyal general, had left home and land to protect all that remained of the Yoshimoros. He had left his son to fend for himself and his mother, to find some way to hold onto his ideals even as the world and city he loved crumbled around him.

"I didn't—I couldn't have… he never—"

"It was best for us," Tage explained gently, understanding that Cyren's kind heart could not stand the idea of a boy so young being left in such a terrible state by his father. "Zen-Fai had to play dead, as did you, and any connection he had with me would have put us all in jeopardy. He explained it to me the week before the coup in the palace. He told me that I would have to live on my own, but to never give into the ideals that Hirmoyarbeshi spewed forth. I never did."

Cyren's face darkened and he looked down, his fingers tightening on his horse's rein. "I'm sorry. I never thought that Fath—_Zen-Fai_—had a son. It never occurred to me that he would have… would have…"

"You weren't supposed to suspect, Lord Cyren. You were to be raised to handle your duty, to be protected until you were a man." Tage put a hand on his shoulder, trying to look sympathetic. "And you were. The fact that you are here with me now only proves that my father served his city well."

"He was—he was _killed_ when Hirmoyarbeshi sent the Metal Heads to attack Haven City," Cyren told him softly, unable to keep it in, though at this point Tage probably already knew.

"I knew that his path would lead him to his likely death. I had prepared myself to face his death, to understand it, _accept_ it," Tage whispered softly, his voice calmer than it had ever been before. "I had even thought that both you and him to be dead as I grew. That was why I had planned to put your distant cousin on the throne. At least it would be Yoshimoro blood and my father's ideals would be reached. Even, I thought, if my father had died, at least he would not have died in vein, for the Yoshimoros would have power again and I would live for them. But, I suppose, like a child, I never quite stopped thinking he would one day return to me. Thank you for telling me."

They both fell silent once again and Cyren sucked in a deep breath. He glanced over at Tage, showing that carefully controlled face and loosened his grip on his reins. He had been raised by a great man—had had a great man for a father—the least he could do was offer some comfort to the man who would stand beside him as general.

"He loved you," Cyren said softly and now it was Tage's turn to look at Cyren in shock. "When we—Aithne and I—found him in Haven City, he told me… he told me to tell his son… that he loved him. I thought—thought then that he meant _me_, but he didn't. He meant you."

"I never doubted his love," Tage said, his voice strained with emotion. "Not for me. He loved everything that was involved with Sage-Harmona, and to him I was part of Sage-Harmona, and so he loved me fully. Perhaps when I was young I resented his abandonment of me, but I came to realize, shortly, that I could hold no ill will toward him. What he did, I would do. I would do whatever it took to protect this city, to protect _you_. My father and I are one in the same."

"I couldn't have asked for a better father. He was a great man," Cyren breathed.

"Yes, he was. And I'm glad that he raised you so well."

Whatever else they might have said then was broken as Aithne came riding up, her face worn and worried. She glanced at Cyren, reading his eyes, and then looked at away. Her attention was focused on Tage.

"How long will it take before we get there?" she demanded, pulling her horse up alongside Cyren.

"Early morning is my guess," Tage answered, honestly. "If you will excuse me, Lord Cyren, I need to see that our troops are in their proper formation."

"What happened?" Aithne asked him once Tage had gone.

"Nothing. We were just talking… about Zen-Fai," Cyren told her and decided Tage's origins would have to be revealed later. Aithne was strung out and weary. He could see it in her eyes. "Are _you_ alright?"

"No," Aithne answered truthfully and looked out toward the sand, where the Holy City would rise up from. "I have a feeling that something bad is happening and we aren't there to help."

He reached over and caught her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "They're going to be alright, Aithne. We'll get there."

The contact just made her look sadder and Cyren felt awful about it. Their time together, while a joy, was also tainted by the fact that he would be gone soon enough. They would be over and done.

"Something's wrong," was all Aithne said.

--&--

As night approached, the Holy City prepared for battle. Nik and Nyx, the generals of the city, along with Torn and Ashelin went through their rounds, making sure each soldier was prepared to give their life for the cause.

Tomorrow, they would either win or die. No one in the Holy City was willing to roll over to the tyrant that threatened them.

Maelia was among them, trying to get herself comfortable in her heavy Holy City armor. She had forgone fighting with the Krimzon Guard. She didn't know why, but she felt like she could do more good in the Holy City ranks. Her memories of the Krimzon Guard made her slow and sluggish, frightful of everything.

Or, at least, she would have been.

"I don't want you out there!" Ryu snapped, a Krimzon Guard Blaster Gun clenched in his grip. Of course, he had gone and joined back up with his former army. Ryu may not have liked it, but he was an excellent soldier.

She threw her chin out, daring him with her eyes to hit her. "You can't tell me what to do, Ryutaro Praxis! We might be sleeping together but that gives you no—"

He clamped a hand over her mouth. "Quiet with that!" he hissed out, his eyes narrowed. "It's too dangerous out there for you and… and you won't even fight in the Krimzon Guard! How can I keep an eye on you if you insist on fighting?"

"Eye on me!?" Maelia screeched, slapping a hand against his chest and wincing when it hit his hard armor. "Who came in second in the class, Ryu? I can take care of myself. I don't need you looking out for me."

"Just stay with your mother and the other healers," Ryu tried again, trying to lower his voice to a coaxing tone, but it was obvious how badly he was gritting his teeth.

"I'm not a healer! I'm a fighter!" Maelia hissed out in an annoyed breath and stomped her foot against the floor. "Alright, I'm _not_ a fighter, but I'm more of a fighter than a healer and I'm fighting!"

"Maelia would you just—"

"_No!_"

"Maelia—"

"Don't you Maelia me, Ryu! You're not locking me away in some damn ivory tower for all the damn battle. I have just as much to fight for as everyone else." Maelia glared up at him as Ryu grabbed her upper arms.

"Would you shut up for two seconds? Maelia, I won't be able to fight out there worrying about you," Ryu told her, his gaze instantly softening as he brought her close, into an embrace. "I need to know you're safe."

"If we lose this battle no one will ever be safe, again," Maelia pointed out firmly, but gently, stroking his hands. "I need to fight, Ryu. I need to fight for this. Because this time, I believe in it. I want to help."

"Maelia…" he sighed, put out and weakening. He brought her into his arms. "You're going to send me to an early grave, aren't you?"

A sniffle rumpled against his chest. "I hope not. I really hope not." They clung to each other, held on like they would be lost without one another.

That was how Daxter found them. He watched for a moment, trying to settle the butterflies in his chest. Even with Tess's soft, encouraging words in his ears Daxter could barely stand to take the few steps towards his daughter.

Maelia was out of Ryu's arms instantly, blinking at him in surprise. "Daddy?"

Without a word, Daxter grabbed her and hauled her into his arms. Maelia gasped against his shoulder, her arms stopping half way into the air. Even Ryu lost his voice in the sudden action of Daxter.

As for Daxter, he held on tight, the hate welling up in his gut. It felt so _good_ to hold his daughter and he had missed it for nearly eighteen years. He had been mourning Lee, he had been mourning Lee for too long. If his son had been alive, he would have been ashamed of his father.

This was his daughter and he missed it all. There were too many regrets to say. Too many things that had to be undone. And too many things that could never, ever change. He couldn't change the past, even if he wanted to.

He pulled away, looking into Maelia's wide eyes and stroked a hand down her hair. "For seventeen years I've been this asshole. Nothing I do or say will ever make up for it… but I'm sorry, Maelia. And I'm going to try. You can hate me all you want, you can ignore me, too, but I'm going to be your father now. I know I can't change, or make up for, what I did, but I'm going to try."

Again he brought her into his arms, hugging her fiercely, biting back the hate that rose up in his throat. _I'm sorry, Lee. I'm sorry that I tainted your image by using it as an excuse to keep away from Maelia. Please forgive me._

"I love you," he said then into Maelia's hair and felt her tremble. "When your brother—_Lee_—died I was so afraid of failing you like I failed him. I'm sorry. And I've always loved you. You're my daughter." He kissed her forehead shakily, still managing a small smile.

Then, because he knew he couldn't push her, he backed away. His eyes meet Ryu's—and he got that too—as he backed away, leaving Maelia to stare after him, her mouth parted and her eyes wide and wet.

"Don't die tomorrow, Maelia. I have a lot of things that I need to make up to you." His eyes went back to Ryu's. "Take care of her."

Maelia's shoulders began to shake as Daxter left, big thick tears rolling down her pale cheeks. She closed her hands over her mouth, trying hard to muffle her sobs. Her head bowed and her coils of strawberry hair shook.

"Maelia?" Ryu breathed and approached her.

Saying nothing, Maelia threw herself into his arms, holding onto him like a lifeline. Her hot tears soaked his shirt as she clung to him, the loud sobs rising in pitch. Ryu stroked her back, comforting her softly, but he was smiling.

Because Maelia's tears were happy ones.

* * *

**Notes:** finally some Maelia and Daxter communication. I know ya'all have been waiting for that for a while. So have I. Let's just hope, you know, they don't like die and stuff. XD

**Act XXIV:** we're off to war and… hey, is that Keira, awake?

**reviews**

**AngelSilentWind:** yup, they're together even if it isn't quite happily ever after. I'm so glad you're enjoying this!

**Xazz:** I've been waiting for Jak ad Daxter to meet up, too. Ever since I made Jak "die" I've been like "I can't wait until I can write the scene where they get together!" and now I have… which means we're almost at the end. It kinda makes me sad.

**GundamWingFanatic90:** To answer your second question, because I didn't exactly explain, Daxter probably could have noticed it, but he was too busy looking at something. Plus, the silvery glow isn't totally in-your-face-bright so one could overlook it if one had other things on the mind. And as for Keira… next chapter! w00t!

**ChatterBox101:** yeah, what I'm kinda going for in these last few chapters is that even if you can't reclaim the past, you can at least find someone to cling to as the world changes around you. I'm that subtly of course, but…

**Carree:** Jak and Daxter's reunion is my favorite part in the whole series, well okay the Keira/Jak reunion coming up might be my favorite… but it's a close second! Keira is… _waking up next chapter_! ZOMG!

**jaklover123:** and I hope you enjoyed doing so!

**Chantz:** hehe, "breakthrough". That's a good term. And an innuendo… if you think about it dirty like. I, obviously, do. Everything, I noticed, in this story is pretty bittersweet, since we follow our hero through the course of seventeen years (kinda…) and, well, a lot can and does change in seventeen years.


	24. Body of Bones

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Yup.

**Author's Notes:** w00t! We're on a roll. Not only that… but yay! The final battles start… _now_! We might even see the end before summer finishes up. OMG!

**warning(s):** blood and gore

* * *

**Act XXIV: Body of Bones **

Dawn glinted brightly off the sand. It was an oddly fitting dawn. Somehow the rays of gold splashing onto the bright sand fit the war that would take place on it. Most would assume that rain would have been a better choice, but gold was a perfect fit for the crimson that would soon be joining it.

Soon enough the overwhelming army of Sage-Harmona surrounded the Holy City, soldiers on horses and foot, with spears and pikes and swords and axes. All ready to fight, all ready to die. And Lord General Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi stood in front of it all, atop his powerful steed, wearing silver armor and looking mean enough to kill anyone in his way.

In the Holy City, the army was ready. Soldiers lined the streets just before the Holy City's massive doors, ready too charge at the word of their leader. The doors were thrown open and the citizens that did not fight this day watched from houses, their prayers going out to the soldiers who fought for them.

One side of these soldiers were from Haven City, the last of their kind. Sig was among them and Tess was in the far back with the Healers, preparing for the injuries that were sure to come.

Daxter had taken a place along the Holy City walls with the few snipers the city had. They would be the last line of defense the Holy City had. As people fought on the frontlines, Daxter and his comrades would be firing from a distance. And, if the Sage-Harmona soldiers got too close, they all had swords and were more than willing to use them.

From the Holy City rode its leaders, Ashelin Praxis, Gareth of Luxhine, and Jak Mar. Their faces were equally grim as they went out to face their enemy, to start the battle that would decide the winners and the losers.

Torn, Nik, and Nyx stood at the front of the Holy City army and watched as the three leaders—well, Jak wasn't really a leader, but he was a powerful symbol to the people—went to face their destinies.

As for Torn, he didn't envy their ability to ride out and meet Hirmoyarbeshi. Torn just wanted to get on with the battle. He had no need to meet with his enemy, unless it was on the battlefield. Torn was a man of action. He couldn't stand politics and war codes of conduct.

War was upon him, he could feel it on his shoulders. And even if his fingers trembled a little, Torn was more than ready. This was what he did. This was what his youth had shaped him to be. A warrior.

He glanced over to his left and saw Ryu, shifting his gun into a more comfortable position in his hands.

Before Torn could even truly comprehend what he was doing, his feet were taking him over to his son. Ryu looked up at his approach, raising an eyebrow. Torn straighten his back into rigid military posture and looked at his son through steely eyes.

"I'm, proud of you," he said simply.

Ryu could do nothing more than stare at him. "What?"

"I don't want you going out there without knowing that," Torn said, staring down hard into his eyes. Then, almost hesitantly, Torn placed his calloused hand on Ryu's armored shoulder. "You make me proud everyday; you make me the proudest I've ever been. You and your mother… there was something missing when I was younger, Ryu, and you… you could just…"

He was failing miserably at this, Torn knew, but he was a man of action not of words and they had never come easy before. But he wasn't going to stop now. He wasn't going to let his son charge into battle without knowing how he really felt.

"I hold you in the highest respect," Torn told him and was rewarded with a disbelieving look from Ryu. "All the respect I can muster I give it to you. You stand firm in your beliefs, you stand firm in all that you do. You've done me well, you've done everything I could have ever hoped you would do. You're a man, Ryu, and I'm proud of that man. I'm not a… you know I'm not an easy man… and this is… but you… I _want_ you to know that I…"

"Dad." With a wide smile, Ryu placed his own hand on Torn's shoulders. "I know. I love you, too."

Like he had said, Torn was not a soft man and he didn't know what to do with the straining sensation in his breast but he managed a nod to Ryu, trying to memorize his son's face. Every word he had spoken was true, Ryu made him proud, made him so very proud of everything he did, even if he never would understand it.

"This is not the time for you to die," Torn said then, truly unable to keep that little fear again. "Your mother and I nearly went insane with worry and grief. _Don't_ do it again, you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Ryu answered, his smile sobering. "I don't plan on letting it happen. I have too much to live for."

"Good." They stood facing each other for a moment longer. Then Torn turned away and returned to his position, but if felt as if his heart was lighter.

Nik's eyes met Torn's as the older man returned to his spot in the frontline. They both nodded to one another, understanding what was truly going to happen. He and Torn had both lived through a war, had seen good men die and had done things they would never be proud of.

But that was war. They both understood that. War changed the rules, changed how humanity worked. Things that would have made a good man's skin crawl became a survival tool in war. Ideals were lost and formed in the boiling pot of brutal battle. Men became new men and the past seemed to dissolve.

And though war was a risk and a danger and a threat to all that they loved, both Nik and Torn felt excitement. They couldn't help it, it was their nature. The whistle of power through their blood, adrenaline already pumping through their systems. Their grips were tight on their weapons, Torn's a gun and Nik's a sword.

Men such as Nik and Torn were forged in the heat of battle.

Already, as Nik stared out into the sands of dawn, he could picture the battle. He could smell the blood and taste the fear. And he was utterly ready. He would do what he had to do to survive. To ensure Nyx survived.

_Nyx…_

He looked over at her as she stood stiff by his side. Her face was pale and drawn, and it was likely that she envisioning the same battle Nik had seen. But she did not meet it with twisted excitement. Nyx was not made of the stuff Torn and Nik were. War frightened her. War made her paranoid.

When Nik thought that Nyx might die in battle this very day, the adrenaline wore off. He stared at her hard, wondering how much effort it would be to get her away with Merasaki. His daughter was bordered up in the palace, with all the other young children, and he knew that it was the best protection that could be offered to his child, but the father in him couldn't see that.

_If any of the gods listen, protect our children,_ Nik thought as his free hand laced with Nyx's fingers.

"Stick close to me when the battle starts," Nik told her softly out of the corner of his mouth. He merely kissed her hard when Nyx began to shake her head. "I won't be able fight unless you're by my side, Nyx."

"Alright," Nyx agreed softly, but only because she wanted to keep him in her sights too. She felt that coolness come over her, part fear, part acceptance. She was ready to go to war. And, what was more, she was ready to win.

Not far from them were Venn and Crea, going over their last minute battle plans. They had both opted not to gain a league—Haven or Holy City—and maybe it bothered Nyx a little bit that her sister was now so distanced from the city she had once given her life to defend.

But they had all changed and Nyx understood that, even if she didn't like it. She glanced over at Nik and saw that his eyes were on Venn and Crea as well. She smiled softly at him and tugged her hand free.

When she started toward her sister, Nik followed her heels closely. She knew that both their hearts were pounding. They only had a few minutes now before the battle began. But Nyx needed these last few moments with her sister. They had gone so long without seeing each other that it made her heartsick.

"Crea?" Nyx breathed as she approached. Crea looked away from Venn and up at her, those blue eyes that Nyx had once known so well guarded and unreadable.

Nyx wanted so badly to understand, to understand her sister. But there seemed to be a barrier between them that she couldn't cross. She sensed it and saw it in Crea's eyes. Nyx knew, somehow deep inside, that she would never be told what had made Crea so cold. Not because she didn't deserve to know, but because Crea would always protect her from the awful truth.

This was her sister and Nyx felt tears cloud her eyes. They had fought in a war before, and they had lost that war. Would Crea fall again? Would they all fall again? The pain in Nyx's chest tightened as she looked at her sister, a woman now, and a woman she didn't recognize.

She nearly wrapped her arms around Crea's shoulders and held her against her, like she used to when Crea had been small. But she didn't. Nyx held back because something in Crea's eyes made her nervous, and made her impossibly sad, and she knew that Crea didn't want Nyx to touch her.

At least, Nyx tried to comfort herself, Venn was able to stroke her bare arm, to touch her slim waist, to look into her eyes and see those emotions unguarded. It was, she suspected, all the comfort she was going to get.

Crea and Nyx stood staring at each other for a while, neither willing to make a move. Nyx just wanted to comfort Crea, to be like they had been before she had left, but Crea knew she was far too different.

Then Nik said to Venn, "Be careful."

Venn nodded to his half-brother, sliding a glance over to Crea. "Yeah, you too."

"Listen, Crea," Nyx began slowly, filling her heart bubble and burst with the love she couldn't show. "If something happens today… if something goes wrong I want you—I want you to get the kids. I want you to take them and run."

Her sister looked away, her long curtain of blonde hair covering face. Then she looked back up at Nyx, her eyes carefully controlled. Nyx wanted to sob all over her and try to drag her sister back to the surface of this cold woman, but didn't dare do it.

"Nyx, you know as well as I do that there isn't a safe place left. The Holy City is all that's left." Crea shook her head when Nyx opened her mouth. "I'm not running away. I'm staying."

Yes, they all knew that. But Nyx had wanted so desperately for Crea to do as she asked, so at least she could comfort herself with that as she rode off into battle. But, no, Crea was a woman that wouldn't run away. She would stand and fight until her legs would cut from beneath her.

"Crea…" Nyx breathed and almost moved to touch her.

"Besides, the Mage will be there," Crea added and her voice sent a chill right to Nyx's heart. The tone was deadly, emotionless, and it made such a feral look come into Crea's eyes.

Venn's face tightened but he said nothing.

There was movement all around them. Suddenly there was a flurry of wild movement and the soldiers were quivering. Nyx felt it. She felt the approaching battle and the way Nik stiffened at her side. He grabbed her arm and they moved quickly back into their positions at the front of the battle lines.

_Goddess, gods, please, hear my prayers. Let us win. Let us survive._

For one last time, Nyx looked at Nik. She memorized his face and his hair and his lips and his nose. Then she glanced over at the warriors behind her. Daxter in the row directly behind her, Tess all the way in the back, Maelia in the Holy City section, Ryu off to her side. And all the other faces she knew. Holy City faces, the young soldiers she had trained and honed and prayed would never know real war.

Very quietly, she said her goodbye to them all, not sure who would or wouldn't be back. Her stomach was a ball of raw lead and her skin was pulsing with nerves, sweat pooling already on her brow.

Torn, his face tough and ready and _made for this_, raised his Blaster Gun. Nyx knew—knew because she was like him—that he only saw the battle ahead.

"_Charge!_" he roared.

--&--

Jak was riding to meet his destiny, he knew that. He could feel it. His palm was glowing even in the daylight and it was constantly warm. This was what he had sacrificed seventeen years of his life for, this coming battle.

"I hate riding horses," Jak snapped, shifting in his saddle. The horse he clasped between his thighs snorted in impatience.

Gareth said nothing and Ashelin merely sent him a look. Jak wasn't honestly surprised. Both Ashelin and Gareth had become different people since Hirmoyarbeshi had given them his ultimatum.

They were leaders now, not people. Jak understood that, respected that. To survive, to make sure their people survived, Ashelin and Gareth had to sacrifice pieces of themselves. They couldn't think in terms individualism. War always costs lives. Ashelin and Gareth had to make sure that they saved the people as a whole.

When something like this was rearing its ugly head, it was impossible to lead so many people to their likely death and be human about it. Jak got that they had to shut down, had to stop thinking about their soldiers as humans. This wasn't a time for emotion.

This was war.

And part of him was doing the same thing. His emotions, while there, were farther away from him than they normally would have. He didn't think about his friends, about his family, because he wouldn't be able to fight thinking about them. He needed to be nothing more than a vessel, a machine for killing, if he wanted to come out of the battle alive.

Lord General Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi was waiting for them as they rode up. Jak felt the muscles in his stomach tighten and there was a little part of him that was screaming to attack. But for some reason, he didn't.

Hirmoyarbeshi faced them, rows upon rows of Sage-Harmona soldiers flanking him. The Holy City glowed in the dawns light, the dots of the city's own soldiers lining the open doors. It was the calm before the storm, everyone was tense and well aware of what was coming, but no one ready to move.

"Ah, Lord Gareth," Hirmoyarbeshi greeted as they rode up to him. His smile was catlike, handsome. "It's good to see you in such… marvelous health."

It was a shot and they all knew it. Ashelin's face went hard and feral. Gareth's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. Jak's blood was ready to boil and he was ready to _go_.

And Hirmoyarbeshi looked just as ready as they did. Jak hated to admit it, but he could tell instantly. This man was a born fighter. He had the look in his eyes, the look that was in Torn's and Ashelin's and his own. The look that said this man had fought wars and killed for ideals.

In a disgusting, twisted way this man was no different from Jak, he was just on the opposing side.

His and Hirmoyarbeshi's eyes met. Jak saw the recognition, saw the brief widening of eyes. But there was no fear. In fact, the surprise died quickly and was replaced by a wide, winning smile.

"Jak Mar." Hirmoyarbeshi looked like a child in a candy shop. "I heard you were dead. Apparently, I heard wrong. Things will definitely get interesting now. And I thought this would be _too_ easy."

Jak's hands clenched into fists and, looking into Hirmoyarbeshi's smiling face, he wanted to do nothing more than leap off his horse and kill the man then and there. This was the man who had kidnapped Keira, who had done awful things to Annityn and Crea. This man was the reason Jak had lost his life.

This man was the epitome of the word enemy. He had it all over him, from his silver armor to his army. And Jak was ready to take him down.

It hit him then that he was going to be the one that killed Kent-Sai Hirmoyarbeshi. Something formed in his chest, a deep-seated knowledge, and he returned Hirmoyarbeshi's smile, as if they were two comrades in on a private joke.

"I will give you one more chance," Hirmoyarbeshi said as he looked away from Jak. "Surrender to me. There is no need for your soldiers to die needlessly. I warn you, if you do not surrender, my soldiers will show no mercy."

"We will never surrender to the likes of _you_," Ashelin hissed out, her back straight and her face proud. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald and she was every inch a warrior woman, ready to fight and die for her ideals.

A smile crossed Hirmoyarbeshi's eyes as he looked at Gareth, Ashelin, and Jak one last time. "I truly expected nothing less of you. You'll be mentioned proudly in the history books, I assure you."

"I'll meet _you_ in the battle," Gareth told him in a low, dangerous voice. His eyes said that this battle was drawing ever nearer. That it was almost upon them.

"I'll send you to _meet_ you wife," Hirmoyarbeshi returned easily, never stopping his smile. "Say hello to her for me."

Without a word to him, Gareth kicked his horse and went racing back to the Holy City. Ashelin and Jak followed him, ready to follow his lead. Gareth was the king of the Holy City and Jak was ready to follow him blindly.

Halfway to the city, Gareth stopped. His sword was in his hand within the blink of an eye, the bright silver glinting as dawn rose. Sand swept up between the Sage-Harmona army and the Holy City army.

For one long moment, the world was silent. Jak could feel it holding its breath, feeling its worry spread along his spine. Cursing under his breath, he pushed it away, clutching his sword even tighter.

Gareth lowered his sword, pointing directly at Hirmoyarbeshi's chest. The men's eyes met across the way, and held. Jak saw that he was going to have some competition in killing Hirmoyarbeshi. Gareth looked like nothing more would please him.

Then Gareth cried, his whole chest shaking with it, "_Attack!_"

Torn's voice rose in reply and, like dark ants, the soldiers moved across the desert, Hirmoyarbeshi leading his troops and Torn leading theirs. Jak, Ashelin, and Gareth waited where they were, their horses twitching nervously, as the roar of rushing bodies became louder.

With a clank and a thud, the two factions met and all hell broke loose. Hot sunlight split the air as the first slash of crimson was sprayed onto the sand. And the crowds were everywhere, making the golden sand dark and dirty. Screams filled the heavy air, battle cries polluted it.

For a moment, all Jak could do was stare. Look at the beautiful mess. Soldiers fighting for their beliefs, soldiers dying for their beliefs. Jak could only stand in awe for a few moments, watching as sweating bodies under dark armor met and hacked at each other, not stopping until each one of the others were dead.

But it was only for a moment. Jak's eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and he was ready. His heels dug into his horse's flank and they went racing into the tight, dirty battlefield, swinging his sword like an avenging angel.

And Jak did what he did best.

--&--

They could hear the battle before they even got there.

Aithne kicked her horse into a gallop as she raced up the last sand dune, Cyren on her heels. The Holy City's towers poked out from behind the sand and the clanging of metal against metal filled the empty air.

And the Sage-Harmona army came up to the Holy City, looking down at the bodies as they smashed against one another, watching blood and life spilled across the sand. From somewhere in the mess of people, Aithne caught a fleeting look of Jak. She scanned in vain for others—Maelia, Ryu, Torn, Ashelin—but she couldn't see anyone.

"Ready men!" Tage roared as he galloped to Cyren and Aithne, Annityn not far behind. "When I give the signal, we charge. On your mark, Lord Cyren!"

"I'm not waiting!" Aithne snapped and gave her horse a sharp kick, sending him racing down toward the heat of the battle.

Cyren made to follow her when Roid caught his ankle, his dark eyes expressionless. "You're people need to hear your voice first, Cyren," he told him.

He was unable to tear his eyes away from Aithne's back until she had disappeared into the fray, swinging her sais expertly. Then, sucking in a nervous breath, he turned quickly back to his people.

"This is it!" he shouted over the roar of war. "This is our destiny! Let us go and face it!" He unclasped his bow staff, swung it once over his head, and went screaming down into the battle.

Tage threw his glittering sword high into the air. "Remember what you fight for! For the _Yoshimoro's_!"

Then the citizens of Sage-Harmona rushed after their leader, their swords and spears and shields at the ready. Cyren, only feet ahead, led the charge with Roid right on his tail, Tage and Annityn only slightly further behind.

The roar of war became deafening as Sage-Harmona joined on the Holy City's side.

And just as those numbers were added to the Holy City's ranks, the Metal Head battle cry rose up. Kiff Fire appeared from the burning sands, lifting her massive balk and crushing three soldiers under her claws. Her bulky body moved with surprising speed as she hacked into her enemies, her claws sharpened and ready, her eyes wide and alert.

"Push Sage-Harmona back at all costs!" Kiff thundered, swiping at a soldier with her bulky arm. Epsi Wind easily dispatched another soldier that came up on her blindside before sleekly returning to his own battle.

A Metal Head came up after Hirmoyarbeshi. He swung his large broadsword in a graceful arch, cutting the Metal Head clean across the shoulder, the bloodied mass falling to the floor in torn, twitching limbs. Instantly, Hirmoyarbeshi twisted himself on his saddle, swinging his free leg around and catching another Metal Head on its glowing skull.

His eyes were deadly and ready, his sword already gleaming with blood. He lopped off the head of a soldier as the man ran past. His other hand possessed a dagger and he threw it right into the back of an enemy soldier.

Another man, older this time and lacking standard Holy City armor, charged him. Hirmoyarbeshi caught him by his hair and lifted him right off his feet, his sword more than ready to taste blood again. He sliced the man from ear to ear, throwing the decapitated head into the battlefield.

But then he recognized a Sage-Harmona resident.

"What is going on!?" Hirmoyarbeshi demanded as his horse's hoof cracked down on the skull of another Sage-Harmona citizen.

A small glimmer of light irritated his eye. Hirmoyarbeshi twisted his head just in time to see a youth come barreling into the battlefield, swinging a bow staff expertly, his nearly white blonde hair wind torn around his face and a silver medallion glinting from his neck. The Sage-Harmona citizens flowed in from behind him.

Time had ceased for Hirmoyarbeshi, everything had stilled. Because the medallion. He'd know that medallion in a barrel of them.

_Yoshimoro…! No! No! I killed him. I killed them all! I slaughtered their pathetic house. I left no one alive! This is impossible. I. Left. No. One—_

"Long live King Yoshimoro! Long live Lord Cyren!" someone shouted beside him. Hirmoyarbeshi howled and arched backward, his sword sliding between a Sage-Harmona citizen's throat.

"The boy! The boy! ATTACK THE BOY!" he roared, pointing at the whelp Cyren Yoshimoro with his sword. _I killed you, boy. I won't let you destroy me now. I'll see your blood this time._

He turned to see that his orders were being followed. And he saw, just in time, Tage Yao leap from his horse, his elegantly curved sword already clashing with a soldier's. Tage's legs snapped out, connecting with his enemy's knees, and the soldier doubled over.

"Your father was a bastard traitor!" Hirmoyarbeshi snarled into the air, his voice lost over the cries and rush of battle. "I should have expected no more from you! I should have let you die like a traitor then, like your father!"

His horse took after the young general at a maddening speed, spurned on by the heavy kicks of its owner. Hirmoyarbeshi was seeing red as Tage successfully sliced off the head of the soldier he was dueling, his long leg pinning him on the ground, his sword sliding into his shoulder blades.

"I will see you dead!" Hirmoyarbeshi cried, swinging his sword in his hand, primed and ready to lower it into Tage's waist, his neck, his back, wherever.

But something crashed into him and tore him from his horse. The animal whinnied in sudden terror and kicked into the air, sending one of Hirmoyarbeshi's soldiers flying across the air.

Hirmoyarbeshi recognized her dark hair right away. Rage boiled over him as he caught the wrists that held the daggers she attempted to stab him with. His knee found her gut and he forced her off him, his kick sending her straight into the sand.

Annityn got to her feet, already crouched into a fighting position, her daggers held defensively in front of her face.

"You _whore_!" Hirmoyarbeshi spat at her, his sword blocked by her skillful dagger. "I was too kind to you! When this battle is done I will show you true pain!" He pushed passed her daggers and nearly cut her across the stomach, but Annityn sidestepped just in time. For a moment, Annityn nearly lost her balance at the surprising move.

"So the Mage's powers are sliding off of you?" Hirmoyarbeshi snapped as he swung his sword at her head. Annityn ducked and swung her dagger at Hirmoyarbeshi's armored stomach. "Good. You will feel all the pain I will inflict upon you."

Glaring at her, Hirmoyarbeshi lunged at her, his sword driven right at her heart. Annityn lifted her arms and his sword cut across her slim limb, spilling crimson onto the pure white of her skin.

She back-flipped away, never taking her eyes off Hirmoyarbeshi, and caught the head of one of his soldiers that was directly behind her. She drew him over her head and pinned him into the sand, sliding her daggers across his throat.

"You'll die. You'll _die_!" he hissed at her as his horse raced passed him. He reached out and caught the reins, pulling himself back onto his saddle and looking at his men. "Tage Yao and the Girl have betrayed us! Show them no mercy! Cut them down like traitors. They're suffering is our glory!"

The power in his voice was a fuel for his soldiers and they drove themselves ever more fiercely into the fray. Hirmoyarbeshi raised his voice to a fever pitch, egging his soldiers on, making their blood boil as his did.

With his sword cutting throats, bodies and air, Hirmoyarbeshi charged.

Tage knew when Hirmoyarbeshi shouted his betrayal to his soldiers, even though he hadn't heard the Lord General. He knew because the soldiers were suddenly on top of him, without any sort of break in the wave of enemies. They were personally after him, he their traitor.

But Tage had trained all these men, even those older than him, and he was a skilled soldier. He took one down with an upward thrust of his arm, digging his blade into the exposed neck, his leg thrusting out and pushing another back. He swung himself around, clashing swords with the soldier.

He gritted his teeth, pushing with all his might onto the sword, his biceps bunching. The soldier's legs gave out, nearly breaking with Tage's pressure, and went into the ground. The soldier's sword sprang out from his grasp and Tage pressed his sword down into the man's face.

Blood burst against his armor, against his sword, against his face. The crimson color of his shirt darkened further with the blood and his boots were covered in sand made into mud from the wetness of blood.

There was a fever in his mind. He was driven to fight, driven to win. This was why he had made such a good general. He was born for war and destruction.

Even if he didn't like it.

Two soldiers flanked him and he parried their thrusts, concentrated on the task of killing them. His arms felt like they were on fire, but he was beyond pain, had been since he had leaped from his horse.

A soldier came up from behind him and Tage could do nothing. The heat of a sword signed his tunic—

Annityn dug one of her daggers into the soldier's shoulder, the other digging into his back. The soldier screamed as Annityn used her daggers like handles to flip him off his head, over her head, and into the dirt behind her. The soldier hissed out in shock and pain as a horse trampled right on his head.

Eyes wild with bloodlust, Tage whirled on her. He glared at her, and some level of coolness returned to him. Annityn said nothing as she dodged a blow to her head.

"I don't need your help!" he shouted at her, catching the armor of another soldier that moved to chop his head. He bashed the hilt of his sword into the soldier's chin, breaking it. The soldier screamed and collapsed into the sand.

All Annityn gave him was a mere nod, and she did not move.

"Down!" Tage snapped, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to bend over at her waist. Annityn went down without question and Tage swung his sword over her bent back. The soldier went sideways into another sword, his neck already broken from where Tage's blade had cut into bone.

At the same time Annityn threw her left dagger passed Tage's hip and right into the face of a soldier that charged him. Without a word the soldier collapsed into the sand, his body lost among the shuffling feet.

Quickly, Tage twisted around and moved forward. He was back at Annityn's side in an instant, her bloodied dagger clutched tightly in his hand.

"We make a good team," Tage gritted out, his face taught with anger. He handed her dagger over to Annityn. "Stick close to me."

Together, they went back into battle.

Hirmoyarbeshi didn't even need to survey the battleground to know that he was losing the battle. There was no clear way to win, not with all the surprises that kept popping up. The betrayal of Tage and Annityn, those damned Metal Heads, the addition of the Sage-Harmona citizens…

There was still one more trump card up his sleeve, and Hirmoyarbeshi knew it would bring him to victory. But the day would not be his.

But he'd be damned if he let his enemies go without any kind of damage. He was enraged. He had thought that the battle against the Holy City would be an easy win, an easy takedown, and his blood roared in rage that it wasn't.

He swung his sword in the air, severing the limbs of a Metal Head that leaped at him. He yanked back on his horse's reins and the powerful beast threw itself into the air.

"Attack the wall directly!" he cried into the air, pointing at the wall closest to him. "Show them no mercy! The palace's walls are your target!"

Jak moved through the rush off people, his sword clanking against armor and flesh. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face and he was bleeding heavily on his side. But he didn't sense any impending threat on his life and didn't want to risk the life of a Healer by calling for help.

The Virgae-Mors sword was heavier in his hands than he remembered but he was relieved that Sig had saved it from the rubble of Haven City. He had never fought so many people at once before, with bodies crushing in around him, sand kicked into the air, the world around him darkened by pressing people.

Taking the time to load a gun with so many people rushing him at once would have been all but impossible. Jak barely had time to suck in a breath of air before the next enemy was upon him.

Torn was making out alright, Jak knew. He had seen the man darting between the people, his limber body slipping and sliding out of all weapons' grasps. But Jak still wouldn't want to be Torn, weighed down with a heavy gun and limited by ammo.

He twisted around just in time to catch the claymore that fell against his side. Hirmoyarbeshi's soldier kept on pushing at Jak and he was forced to take a step back. And another. And another. A constant barrage of sword thrusts kept Jak on the defensive, not allowing for any moment save backing up and parrying.

Finally, Jak saw his opening. He feigned to the left, caused the enemy soldier to follow, and twisted himself around, his sword coming up hard on his right, cutting right into the enemy's thigh. As the soldier howled, Jak planted his boot on his chest and yanked out the sword.

The weight of the sword had him stumbling backyards a little, his boots sliding against the sand. He steadied himself as his back bumped into someone else.

They both spun around and faced one another. Jak relaxed when he was greeted with Gareth's weary, damp face. Gareth's shirt and armor were covered in blood, but Jak could not see a truly deadly wound. The ruler of the Holy City had a few cuts across his face and along his arms, but seemed other than that unharmed.

"Alright?" Gareth shouted at Jak as he turned away, dodging a blow to his armored chest. Jak swung to his defensive, thrusting his sword out and kicking the soldier away when he blocked.

"Fine. You?" Jak shouted right back, daring to lift a wrist and rub at the sweat that rolled down between his eyes.

"I've had better—" Gareth cut himself off as a solder rushed them both.

Just as Jak raised his sword to defend himself a bullet ripped through the air, and right into the soldier's skull. Blood and bone splattered against the sand as the heavy body hit the ground, twitching only once.

Jak didn't even bother looking up at the walls of the Holy City. He already knew who had saved his life. Daxter had been keeping Jak in his scope's eye since the battle had began, taking out any soldier that go to close.

It made Jak proud to see his friend so strong. He wouldn't want anyone else on the team as the last line of defense.

With Gareth at his side, Jak rushed forward, slicing into any enemy he came across. His goal was to locate Hirmoyarbeshi in the mess of people. Or to find Aithne. He had heard that the people from Sage-Harmona had arrived to give aid and he wanted to make sure Aithne was alright.

"Aithne!?" he shouted over the clash of weapons, knowing very well that Aithne might just choose not answer him. But the butterflies in his stomach wouldn't let up. "Aithne!?"

Something rushed by his side and Jak turned just in time to see Maelia go hurtling into the sand. She gagged on the grains of dirt and rolled to her knees, her enemy already coming down on top of her.

He leapt to her and slid his sword into the man's neck. He gave a gurgling sound of surprise, the weight of his sword, and the sudden lack of strength, taking him backwards and into the dirt.

Maelia leapt to her feet, grasping her gun tightly in her palm, her face tight and pale. Jak saw a steady stream of blood running down her arm from her shoulder and he felt himself frown with worry.

"You need to get that looked at," he ordered her sharply. When Maelia gave him a blank look, Jak elaborated, "Your shoulder's bleeding. Get it to a Healer!"

"Oh." Maelia looked down at her shoulder as if noticing the wound for the very first time. Jak figured her adrenaline had probably numbed her whole body. "Okay, I will. But Jak, Ashelin sent me over. She says to tell you that Hirmoyarbeshi's soldiers have breached the south wall."

"The South Wall!?" Gareth demanded as he pushed away a soldier. He looked at Jak. "That's the wall guarding the medical bay!"

_Medical bay. Keira._

"C'mon!" He rushed passed Maelia and toward the south of the city, Gareth hot on his heels.

Aithne caught Jak's back just as he moved passed her. She saw where he was heading and tapped Cyren's on the shoulder. She nodded to him before turning on her heel and racing after the two men.

--&--

Keira didn't awaken slowly.

She snapped awake, a scream tearing through her throat. She clawed at her skin, her eyes glazed with fear and rage and memories. Her hands were ready to fight the monsters she had fallen into company with.

But she wasn't in the room she had been in when she passed out.

In fact, it looked like the Holy City's _medical bay_.

"What?" Keira managed, her voice strained and hoarse from disuse.

Her whole body was aching, from her legs to her temples. Her throat was dry and felt as if someone had ripped it apart. Everything about her felt heavy, as if she was unused to moving in her own skin.

Stifling a groan rising up in her throat, Keira swung her legs over the side of the bed. For a moment, she wobbled on her legs but her balance quickly returned to her, even it felt odd to walk forward.

Had someone rescued her? Sala? What had happened to Haven City? What had happened to Sig?

_Oh my God, Daddy_, Keira thought and pressed a hand against her mouth, mourning her father all over again. Her heart burned with pain but she knew she didn't have time to mourn him. She had to find Aithne and she had to see what had happened to everyone.

That was when she saw Sala, sleeping quietly on the cot beside her.

"Sala?" Keira hobbled over, grabbing the woman's arms and pulling her into a sitting position. "Sala, wake up." She gave her a shake.

Sala's hands shot to her temples and she rubbed at them as she moaned in pain. Her eyes were squeezed tight, as if she didn't want to wake up and Keira could feel the muscles in her shoulders stiffening.

"The flowers," she mumbled. "The flowers."

"Sala!" Keira snapped, harsher than she had intended but it forced the queen awake.

"Keira!?" Sala cried hoarsely, rubbing her throat. Her eyes were wide as she took in her friend's appearance and her presence in the Holy City. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know but I think we need to—" Keira broke off. The sudden crashing sound from behind her had her whipping her head around.

The stones that made up the back wall suddenly fell loudly to the floor, blazing sunlight pouring in from the hole. But that wasn't all that poured. Soldiers, in blood stained armor, followed in right after.

"Sage-Harmona!?" Sala breathed, suddenly gripping Keira's arms.

Keira pushed her weight against Sala and had them both crashing to the ground, hard. An arrow went zipping over their heads and into the wall in front of them. Keira followed it to its place right above her glaive.

Using Sala's body as leverage she kicked herself off the floor and raced to her weapon. With the comforting, heavy weight in her palms she turned and sliced the throat of a soldier as it came up to Sala.

Kicking the dead body away, Sala raised herself. "We need to get out of here! There must be a battle going on!" She yanked the soldier's sword out of his dead hands and stood beside Keira.

"C'mon!" she shouted and she and Sala drove themselves forward.

--&--

On his way to the breeched wall, Hirmoyarbeshi saw Kiff Fire.

Their eyes met across the battlefield and Hirmoyarbeshi offered her a wide smile. Kiff roared and crushed the soldier she held in her paws. Throwing the dead body over her shoulder, her bulky body raced to him.

He hefted his sword high as Kiff threw herself at him. He felt the hard tug as his sword connected with flesh, but Kiff merely shook him off and landed on the opposite side of his horse. Blood flowed down from her front leg but she seemed unaware of it.

"Come for a taste of revenge, Kiff?" Hirmoyarbeshi demanded as he kept her in his sights.

Kiff Fire circled him, hunter to prey. He could almost feel her smile as she said, "Not just a taste, Hirmoyarbeshi. I'm after the whole meal."

She lunged at him, her talons ready to tear. Hirmoyarbeshi swung his sword to deflect, but Kiff's strength drove it aside. He cried out in shock and pain as her sharp claws dug into his shoulder and drove them both to the ground.

In a last ditch effort to free himself, Hirmoyarbeshi drove his sword up. Kiff grunted as the smooth blade cut right through her scaly stomach and into her body. Hirmoyarbeshi planted his booted foot on Kiff's stomach and kicked her away.

Clamoring to his feet, his gripped the edge of his horse's stirrup and hefted himself back onto his steed, glaring down at Kiff as she righted herself.

"I'll kill you," he hissed, gripping his bleeding shoulder. "But for now, Kiff Fire, this is where we part." He turned his head and looked at his men, still fighting bravely under his cause. "_Retreat_! This day is not ours! But we will win! We have something they do not! Retreat!"

Without a backwards glance at Kiff Fire, Hirmoyarbeshi spurned his horse onward toward their came, his soldiers following him quickly. He knew he had done enough damage to ensure that the Holy City wouldn't follow, but he knew that they had a few trump cards that he hadn't counted on.

That was fine, so did he.

It was time to call the Mage.

--&--

The soldiers cleared out as Hirmoyarbeshi ordered them. But Jak and Gareth weren't about to let them flee. They flanked the wall that had been breeched, cutting into whatever soldiers they could.

Debris and rubble acted as a hill to the gaping hole in the Holy City's southern wall. Soldiers were constantly pouring out from it. Jak's heart was beating fast in his chest as he struggled over the sharp rocks to reach the hole.

_Please, Goddess, don't let anything happen to her. You can't do this to me, Lokin!_

Gareth stumbled against Jak's side, slipping on loose rocks as he struggled to keep up with Jak. He had his own wife to protect. His shoulders and armor were caked with dirt and blood, his face nearly unrecognizable under the layers of dirt.

Aithne huffed behind him, pushing herself up the rocks, following his lead. Jak was too concerned with getting to Keira and making sure she was alright to look back at his daughter, but he knew that Aithne was more than capable of taking care of herself.

As Jak paused to help Gareth to his feet, Keira and Sala walked out.

Jak's hands went limp and heavy as Gareth scrambled upright, both their eyes riveted to the two women who stepped out into the sun, wincing as the harsh light attacked their irises. They must have been blinded momentarily because they seemed unaware of the men who stared at them.

"Mom!" Aithne shouted suddenly, racing to a stop just beside Jak. "Mom!"

Keira blinked several times and then lifted her hand to answer her daughter's wave. Her face cracked into a wide smile as her wave became bigger with happiness.

He couldn't look away. Jak remained kneeling as he stared up at Keira, at her beautiful face. She hadn't changed, not a wink, from when he had last seen her. She was everything he remembered, everything that had comforted him on cold winter nights. He wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to laugh and cry and call out for her. But he was made of stone, unable to move.

It was like a dream the world had grown slow and sluggish around him. All there was, in that moment, was Keira, alive and well.

Sala and Gareth embraced, Gareth nearly tripping onto his face in his haste to reach her. They collapsed to their knees in the rubble, Sala's dark head buried deep in Gareth's arms, his shoulders shaking.

Slowly—or maybe that was just Jak's mind, which had put everything in slow motion—Keira turned to watch Sala and Gareth reunite. That was when she saw him.

Her whole face went still. Not a muscle moved, her eyes never widened. She stared at him, growing pale, as if he was some ghost, as if she was hallucinating. Her whole body was taut like wire and Jak felt his stomach burn that he couldn't read her eyes.

His feet stumbled over rocks as he pushed himself toward her, his voice lodged deep in his throat. "Keira—I… it's me. _Really_."

"Jak," Keira said, as if her lips were unused to saying it.

Swallowing his heart, Jak nodded.

Then, without warning, Keira was rushing toward him. Her wet tears hit his shoulder as her arms went hard around his neck. Jak sucked in a hard breath as Keira's warm body collided with his, after so long… _so long_…

Even as his brain shouted at him that Keira wasn't going to be so loving once her heart finally accepted him, Jak wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair. It was longer than he remembered but smelled like strawberries.

"I'm… I'm—" He kept trying to tell her, tell her that he was sorry and that he never wanted to leave her, but he couldn't get the words out of his throat.

All he could do was hold her.

And Aithne looked away.

--&--

Aithne knew where Cyren's room was. It was closer to the royal bedchambers—which made sense, even if it was a hassle to sneak into it—and larger than her own. But it smelt and felt like Cyren and that was comforting.

Cyren had been waiting for her, or maybe he just hadn't been able to sleep. Whatever it was, Aithne had been willingly brought into his loving arms. They ended up on his bed, watching the moonlight play across Cyren's mirror, as Cyren stroked her hair.

"Is it wrong of me?" Aithne asked softly, her arms wrapped loosely around Cyren's waist. "Is it wrong of me to be mad?"

"Mad?" Cyren dipped a kiss down onto her hair. "Mad at who?"

"My mother. Jak." Aithne titled her head back so she could look up at him. "All my life… my mother's never smiled like that. She's never smiled like that until she saw Jak was alive. She never looked so _happy_. Is it terrible of me that I'm angry that I couldn't make her smile like that?"

"Oh, Aithne," was all Cyren could manage as he tightened his grip on her shoulders. "I wish there was something I…" Unable to say anything else, he trailed off.

And because there really wasn't anything to say, Aithne pressed her face into Cyren's shoulder and sobbed.

Sala was crying too, but they were happy tears. Big, thick happy tears that rolled down her cheeks. Her son was a familiar weight in her slightly weakened arms, his head propped up against her shoulder.

Gareth sat beside her on the bed, watching as she stroked their son's dark head, murmuring lovingly into his hair. He lapped up the image like a starving man, his eyes intense and focused.

"I'm sorry," Gareth said suddenly, his hands shaking as he dropped to his knees beside her, gripping her free hand.

"What?" Sala shifted Sedet's head on her shoulder, staring down at her husband, her eyes narrowed in the darkness. "Gareth, what are you talking about?"

"I failed you," he whispered, his voice strained with pain and tears. "I couldn't stop the flowers from poisoning you. And I couldn't find the cure. I failed you."

"Gareth, there was no way you could have known about the flowers," Sala pointed out as gently as she could, her face softening with love and tenderness. "And you tried. You tried to save me."

He sat on the bed, keeping her hand in his firm grip. "When I came back, I came back to…" He looked down, struggling against the pain. Then he looked back up at her and cupped her face, stroking his thumb down her cheek. "When I came back, I thought it was to watch you die."

"Please…" she cried softly, tightening her hold on his hand. Her face clenched with pain and tears as she watched him struggle. "I'm alright. I'm alright."

"But you weren't going to be and I—I wasn't—I _couldn't_—do anything to help… to help you." Gareth's face twisted, his eyes dampening and he leaned into her. "I couldn't… Sal…"

She gripped his shoulders and brought him closer, pressing her lips lightly against his forehead. "It's alright. It's going to be fine, Gareth. We're going to make it."

Even if she was lying, it was enough for them.

Holding them both, Gareth lowered them to the bed. Sala watched as Gareth drifted off to sleep and she stayed as a silent vigil throughout the night, watching her son and husband sleep.

Because tomorrow, they still had a war to fight.

--&--

"Be careful!" Hirmoyarbeshi hissed to his general as the man worked on sewing up his bleeding shoulder.

Looking down at his torn shoulder, Hirmoyarbeshi felt his stomach roll. Not in nausea—blood did nothing like that to him—but pure anger. No one was supposed to be able to touch him, damnit. They were supposed to roll over and die, not fight back.

"I'll do it!" he snapped at his general and pushed him away. He began to draw the needle through his own skin, yanking the skin closed. "Go get the Mage. Tell him to get his army down here."

"That won't be necessary," answered the Mage as he stepped out of the shadows.

The general leapt to his feet, nearly stumbling in fear.

"Get out of here, you useless son of a whore!" Hirmoyarbeshi snapped and then snarled in pain as he yanked the wire too strongly along his wound. The new tear in his skin began to bleed. "Out!"

The Mage chuckled as the general stumbled out. "I understand how hard it is to find good help," he told Hirmoyarbeshi sympathetically.

Hirmoyarbeshi said nothing as the Mage placed a hand against the wound. Coolness surrounded the wound and, slowly, the wound began to close.

"Tage Yao and the Girl betrayed us," Hirmoyarbeshi said as the last of the magick healed him. "And with them they brought nearly all the citizens of Sage-Harmona."

"Yes, I know." The Mage took a seat opposite Hirmoyarbeshi and continued to smile. "But do you honestly think it matters? With all the man power in the world, do you honestly think they'll be able to win over us?"

"That isn't the point!" Hirmoyarbeshi roared and jumped to his feet, pulling a loose shirt over his naked stomach. "I gave that son of a traitor power, prestige, and a rank! I should have had him flogged and banished when I thought his father dead."

"Ah, so can I assume then you know of Cyren Yohsimoro's existence?" the Mage asked, his face amused, and his lips curved into an all-knowing half smile.

"You find this _amusing_!?" Hirmoyarbeshi hissed. "My claim to the throne is because the Yoshimoro's are _dead_ and now it turns out that Zen-Fai Yao had indeed succeeded in spiriting the boy out of Sage-Harmona and allowing the line to continue. Who did I kill that night!?"

"Likely a very ingenious hologram."

"You toy with me, old man!" Hirmoyarbeshi wheeled around and kicked the wooden table behind him, sending charts and maps scattering. "I should have murdered the boy when I helped deliver him from his mother's womb!"

"It's doesn't matter, my Lord General," the Mage told him.

"_Doesn't matter_!? The whelp's very existence excludes me from my title! Sage-Harmona is by blood _his_, not mine!"

"Yes, but he will lose tomorrow. He will die tomorrow. We will kill him." The Mage's mouth curled into a cruel smile. "Do you honestly think that even with their Metal Heads and traitors and heirs that they can win?"

"Yes, I know, _we_ have the Experiments but—"

"_We_ will not lose." The Mage's smile darkened into something truly frightening. Even Hirmoyarbeshi felt the shudder up his spine. "We have something they cannot comprehend."

--&--

Except Annityn _could_ comprehend. She knew, even with their win earlier, that the Mage was impossible to beat. She knew he held some untold power, she just did not know what it was.

Her skin was ice cold at the thought of the Mage, and she knew that he was there with Hirmoyarbeshi. She could _feel_ him, feel the crawl against her skin. She wouldn't say anything, but she knew.

She sat on the cold stone of the Holy City walls, a pair of binoculars in her hands. There was a sharp chill in the air, but she was mostly unaware of it—it only caused a mild irritation to her skin—and she kept her watchful vigil on the silent tents of Sage-Harmona without complaint.

The others—the other soldiers who would have taken up posts along the wall—had turned in. Annityn was more than capable of handling guard duty and she didn't need sleep like the others did.

So she had taken up post and now lay flat out on the smooth stone—no more than about seven feet in width—that circled the Holy City.

Roid didn't say anything when he appeared by her side. He didn't have to. Annityn had heard him coming from a mile. She inclined her head to him, but made no more move to show that she acknowledged his presence.

"The Mage has arrived," Annityn told him.

"That will make the battle very difficult," Roid surmised and looked down at her when she said nothing. "Tomorrow will be the deciding victory. All the cards will be played and the winner will be chosen."

They fell into silence, Roid leaning onto his haunches, their eyes on the outlines of Sage-Harmona's tent. Annityn glanced over at him just as Roid turned his head to look at her. She watched him silently as he frowned.

"When this battle is over, if we win and survive, what will you do?" Roid shrugged when Annityn gave him a blank look. "You'll be free from your promise to Cyren. You'll be free of Hirmoyarbeshi and the Mage and all your duties. What will you do?"

Annityn looked away from him and was silent once more. Then, slowly, she answered, "I do not know."

Their eyes meet once more and Roid sensed that Annityn was going to ask something of him that he wouldn't ever be able to give her. He sucked in a breath, ready to duck out, when they heard footsteps.

"General Yao," Annityn said and watched as Roid slid into the darkness and disappeared.

Tage raised an eyebrow at her as Annityn turned her attention to him. "Don't you sleep, Girl?" he wanted to know.

"Annityn."

"What?" Tage plopped himself down beside him, shivering only slightly in the hard night chill.

"My name is Annityn." She turned backed to her binoculars as Tage goggled at her. "That was my name before the Mage."

"I knew that Lord Cyren and the rest called you that," he answered tightly, as if the fact that she would hand it out to him was insulting.

"You have never called me by my name before," she pointed out calmly, giving him a sideways glance, watching as the general gave a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Takes a lot to get used to, I guess. You've been 'the Girl' for so long…" he trailed off and stretched out his legs. "That Metal Head? Roid? Are you friends with him?"

She frowned, as if the notion had never crossed her mind before and she wasn't sure how to handle it. "I have no…" she started calmly before stopping. She glanced up at him. "He is a close friend."

Silence stretched between them, Annityn going back to watching Sage-Harmona and Tage watching her. He sighed and looked up at the stars.

"Fate is funny," he said suddenly and Annityn gave no inclination that she had heard him. "When the time came to show my true loyalties, I always imagined that I would be fighting you on the battlefield."

"Yes, I suspected and prepared for it as well."

"Of course you did. That's what you do. It wasn't just about killing you, you know." He shrugged when she lifted her head to look at it. "It was about proving that I was better then you. Hirmoyarbeshi had it in his head that you were this great new creature because you lacked human qualities. I wanted to kill you, beat you, to prove that humanity gave us strength."

"And you wanted to—"

"Make you pay. That, too." Tage glanced down at his clenched hand and then back at her. "I guess we all did things we aren't proud of. I did some pretty nasty things, too, in Hirmoyarbeshi's name."

"On the battlefield," Annityn said suddenly, surprising Tage. He wasn't used to her talking unless she was spoken to. "I will protect you."

"Me?" Tage goggled at her. "Why?"

"You will help Cyren, and I have promised to see that he is put rightfully in his place. You will see to it that he keeps that place."

Something strange passed over Tage's face as Annityn went back to her duties. He stared down at her hard, burning a hole into her back.

"You should get some sleep," he said suddenly, standing up. "Go to bed. I'll take this watch."

"That is not necessary," Annityn told him calmly, without glancing up at him as he towered over her. "I do not require sleep."

But even as she said this, she placed down her binoculars and rested her head against the cold, smooth stone. It took Tage a few minutes to realize that she had indeed fallen asleep.

_Passed out is more like it,_ Tage thought as he reached for the blanket he had snuck up to the wall. He crouched down beside her and placed the thick, warm blanket over her shoulders. The Girl—_Annityn_—didn't wear nearly as much as she should for the chilly weather.

He watched, detached, as his hand ran down her waterfall of inky hair, brushing it from the nape of her neck.

Angrily—mostly at himself—he ripped the binoculars from in front of her and slapped them against his eyes. His leg tapped nervously as Annityn turned more fully into the warmth of her blanket, bringing her closer to him.

Even as he began cursing, Annityn slept on.

--&--

Jak knew exactly where Keira was. He might have lost track of her for most of the day, but he knew where she would have ended up.

After their embrace she had disappeared from his grasp. Jak had searched for her, of course, but the Holy City had to repair and Sig had informed him that she needed to be alone for a bit. Keira had avoided him expertly and Jak knew it hurt him, but he didn't dare say anything. He was the one who had been gone for seventeen years.

But now, here they were, Keira looked out the window, Jak right behind her.

His breath escaped silently from his lips and he wasn't sure what he was going to do. His voice was hoarse and his throat refused to even obey the notion of speaking to her. What was he going to say? What could be said?

This was Keira. His wife. The woman he had unwillingly left to protect. This was the woman he had struggled to get back to, this was the woman whose memories kept him warm on bitterly cold nights.

And there was nothing he could say to her. Nothing he could say could make up for seventeen years of absence.

Even more than that, Keira might have moved on. The thought had never occurred to him, but upon meeting Aithne—and her hostility—Jak knew that Keira might have remarried, might have started another family. It made his heart ice over to think that she had married someone else.

He started toward her and watched as Keira's shoulders stiffened.

"You were never dead," she said simply, not turning to look at him.

"No, I wasn't."

She spun angrily, tears glistening in her eyes, watching as he lifted his hands and let them fall again. She gritted her teeth as she rubbed furiously at the moisture that ran down her cheeks.

"Then why? Why did you… why did you let everyone think that—that you were dead? Why did you stay away from me? Us?" Keira's anger evaporated as quickly as it had come and she now just looked tired, tired and worn out.

"Don't you think I wanted to?" Jak demanded, feeling panic tickle his throat. "Don't you think that I wanted to come back to you? To Aithne? I didn't want to stay away, Keira. I _had_ to!" He lifted his hand, the palm glowing silver in the moonlight. "It was the will of the gods."

Keira stared at his palm, watching the way the gossamer traces of magick lit up his hand. "I don't understand—"

"When we fought Eris all those years ago, I hadn't been strong enough. Not nearly strong enough. We won because… because some other god favored me." He dropped his hand away in disgust. "Lokin, he gave me the power I needed to help you and then, three years later, he collected his debt."

"You're telling me," Keira began slowly, as if her brain couldn't quite process it. "That the gods are the reason we lost seventeen years?"

"Yes."

"That isn't fair!" She gave a low moan and spun away from him, hunching her shoulders defensively. "We lost seventeen years of our lives because some god willed it so? That isn't fair, Jak!"

"I think that every damned day," he muttered bitterly, watching her shaking shoulders, feeling that tight pressure on his chest. He couldn't breathe.

"We can't go back. We can't be what we were, Jak."

It felt like the important pieces of himself—the ones he had managed to keep safe from harm—were breaking. He stepped toward her, not even daring to touch her. Not with so much between them.

"I know. Keira, I—I just want you to know that I… I never stopped loving you. I left—I _left_—because I had to. Because I needed to protect you, and Aithne. I—I never expected you to—"

A scream tore from her throat as she wheeled around and pressed herself against his chest, her tears hitting his shirt. "I could hate you. I could _hate_ you. I _want_ to hate you. Why can't I—why can't I hate you?"

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight against him, murmuring into her hair as she sobbed. He said useless things to her, useless, unnecessary things into her hair as she wept.

"I never stopped loving you, Jak," Keira said stiffly, her voice strained. "I tried, but I never stopped loving you."

It made him want to weep as well. Weep with relief. She still loved him. She _still_ loved him. After seventeen years, Jak Mar still held Keira Hagai's heart.

"I thought… I thought you might have moved on," he admitted softly, pressing his chin onto her hair. "I thought you might have remarried."

"You idiot. You big, stupid _idiot_," she managed between her sobbing, her hold on his shirt tightening. "I couldn't ever get married after you. How could I?"

"You had every right to… to want to start a new life. Make you and Aithne happy—"

"Aithne!" She lifted her eyes to his, her wide and horrified. "You've met her? Jak, she—"

"Hates me, I know." Jak managed a self-mocking smile. "Trust me, it was hard to miss. But I… I guess I can't blame her."

"I've been a terrible mother," Keira told him. "A weak mother. Aithne needed me to be strong for her, but I was… I was weak and lost and confused. Everything had fallen to pieces and I didn't know how to… put them back together."

"No, Keira. You're not weak. You incredibly strong. Aithne's… she a strong woman, Keira. And you made her strong." Jak rubbed her shoulders as Keira shivered. "You were strong, to raise such a proud and capable girl."

Keira's face crumpled and she pressed it into his shoulder. "I missed you, Jak. I missed you so much. I guess I'm… I'm too caught up in you being back to really be pissed. That's for later, I guess."

With a weak smile, Jak buried his face into her face. "I missed you, too. Everyday. And I'm not leaving you, ever again."

They held each other for a long while, Jak trying to memorize the feel of her in his arms. It had been so long and he knew that Keira would need to learn to trust him again, that whatever they had had before he had left, it wasn't going to be what they had now. But all Jak was hoping for was a second chance. A chance to do things right.

A second chance with Keira—and Aithne. That was all Jak wanted. A second chance.

Suddenly, he snapped his head up. "Keira? Aithne, does she have—I mean… is she… like me?"

She lifted her face and shook her head. "No. I took her to the doctor every month before she hit puberty. They said that there were no signs of—of eco poisoning." She sighed as Jak's face softened into relief.

"That's good. I'm glad that she isn't…" he trailed off and clenched his fists awkwardly. "Aithne shouldn't have to go through what I went through when I was her age."

"But she's so much like you, Jak. She's angry and bitter and wild. I can barely keep up." It made Keira smile slightly at the admittance.

"Those—those aren't good traits."

A look flickered across Keira's face and Jak knew that they still had many hurdles to cross, many rivers to bridge. They were together, but there was still so much between them, and Jak would have to work hard to get her trust back.

But they had crossed enough hurdles for tonight.

When he kissed her, just gently, dipping his head low, and when Keira pressed her arms around his neck, sighing into his mouth at the longed for touch, it felt like coming home. And Jak never wanted to leave.

And he wouldn't, gods and wars be damned.

--&--

Sometime later, Jak sat in bed and watched as Keira slept. Her half-naked form was pressed intimately against his side, her hand grasping the fabric of his hip, as if she was half afraid that he would disappear if she let go.

Jak reached out and gently smoothed back a piece of hair that had fallen across her face. There was so much that he needed to say, needed to do, but it would have to wait. They had a war to fight first.

"I love you," he murmured to her as he slid on top of her and pressed his mouth against hers. Slowly, tenderly, he lifted himself off.

"Jak," Keira mumbled, half-asleep, gripping his arms as he turned. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I'm not. Never again. I just need to go outside real quick, Keira. I promise." He took her hand in his own and kissed it gently. Then, as she went back to sleep, he swung out of the bed and padded across the room and unto the balcony.

The cold hit hard against his chest and Jak allowed himself to shiver once.

But he only shivered once. He wasn't alone on the balcony, the moon high in the sky, near it's zenith. He had left the warmth of Keira's bed because he had been called.

Lokin reclined in a chair, his legs propped up on the balcony's guardrail.

"Haven't actually ever been in here," Lokin said thoughtfully, motioning with a wave of his hand to the Holy City. "Never really was my thing. But my sister sure had a knack for making things pretty, didn't she?"

"I'm not leaving," Jak snapped angrily, his fists clenching at his sides. "I'm not leaving Aithne and Keira again. No matter what you say, I won't—"

"Relax, Jak," Lokin suggested with a roll of his shoulders. "You're exactly where you need to be. Just thought I'd come and give you a good luck hug."

When he only continued to glare, Lokin shrugged and jumped easily to his feet. As he gripped the guardrail, Lokin's face took on a level of seriousness that Jak had rarely seen on him.

"Tomorrow the game changes, Jak," Lokin said as he looked out toward the Sage-Harmona tents. "Everyone's got a true form and tomorrow you're going to see them all. There isn't going to be any rules."

"What are you talking about?" Jak snapped, crossing his arms over his chest, never relinquishing his glare.

The god sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging. "People are going to die tomorrow, Jak. People you know, people you love.

"What the hell do you mean!?" Jak hissed, reaching out to grab the god. But Lokin disappeared moments before Jak could grab his collar.

"You're debt's almost repaid, Jak," Lokin's voice said before the wind replaced it.

--&--

Roid felt the god as he sat on his hunches, perched outside Cyren's room. He was on his feet when Lokin appeared before him.

The god lifted a hand in a sign of peace, but Roid kept braced for an attack. He had never before met a god, but he could smell the power on him, the magick, and it made him uncomfortable.

"I was just checking up on Cyren," Lokin told Roid as the Metal Head's eyes fastened on him. "But Aithne's with him so I decided to give them some privacy."

"Then leave," Roid snapped. He knew that he was dancing on a very narrow edge by insulting a god, but he had no respect for people with so much power, who sit on high chairs and moved mortals around like pawns.

"I've always been fond of Metal Heads," Lokin mused, his voice almost drowned with sarcasm. "I'm going. I'm going. I was just making sure my investments are ready."

With an enigmatic smile, Lokin strode away from Roid and down the halls. He paused as his body was nearly incased in completely darkness. With a more colorful smile, Lokin glanced over his shoulder at Roid.

"She would have been proud of you, Roid," Lokin said and was gone without any more fanfare.

There was no need to say _who_ would have been proud of Roid. He knew exactly who Lokin had been referring to. The only person Roid had ever truly wanted to be proud of him.

_Rosalyn_.

Wearily, he sat back down.

* * *

**Notes:** yay for a meeting! Keira and Jak are finally together, and it may take some time, for Keira to even begin trusting Jak again, at least they're willing to try.

**Act XXV:** the final battle is upon our heroes, but all is not as it seems.

**Reviews**

**hyrule haven city field:** yes, this is very bittersweet, which is quite a difference from its prequel, which had a happily ever after in ever sense of the word XD

**Carree:** every needs to have a little closure before marching off to fight in a war they could possibly die in, no? And the cliffhanger was totally necessary because I've always planned on having Keira wake up in the heat of the first battle since… well… since I first started this thing.

**Specter Von Baron:** The Mage's downfall is his underestimation of Jak and his crew. And the last chapter was up so late because was being bitch about uploading long chapters. Gr!

**Chantz:** I kept Tage's true identity (and Zen-Fai's as well) under wraps 'cause I wanted one thing no one saw coming. And Zen-Fai has really been there since chapter one (I mention him very briefly in chapter three, briefly but he's there). I was pleased that no one guessed his origins. XD And Annityn is probably one of my favorite OCs I've ever created, just because she _is_, technically, a droid, ostracized from her emotions, and only just know learning how to deal with them. I modeled her a little bit like River Tam from _Firefly_, but less crazy. Daxter's confrontation with Maelia has been in the works for quite a while. Daxter just needed to get to a place where he could admit that he's been a terrible father, and admit that he needs to make amends for it, even if it's never going to be good enough. As for the innuendo scenes… I thank Nora Roberts.

**razorstar90:** sad? Yeah, definitely, but hopefully there'll be some silver linings in these clouds pretty soon!

**Xazz:** I know about computer problems. And hasn't been very kind to me lately. I annoy it with 30-page chapters. And the reason why both Cyren and Aithne feel they can't be together, is because Aithne feels like she isn't fit to be a queen (and really, she's not) and that Aithne's main duty is to look after Keira, which is really something she's been doing all her life. With Cyren, he mostly doesn't want to make her carry this burden with him, being a monarch is not easy, and he doesn't want to drag her away from the home and life she knows, feeling it would be selfish of him. I didn't touch on that very much, or at least not their reasons, and I meant to. It was just one of the things that got cut from the finish version. As for Jak's power… my lips are sealed. XP

**jaklover123:** we are near the end. All together, counting an epilogue, Jak IV has about twenty-seven chapters. So yeah, it's almost over. But if it didn't end… it be _Will and Grace_.

**Darkening Light:** if you're right, I'm saying nothing. If you're wrong, I'm saying nothing. But, yeah, there is a little bit of paranormal-ness.


	25. Casualties of War

**Disclaimer:** yeah and right

**Author's Notes:** omg! We've only got like two chapters until the end. The end, baby! I'm so excited that this author's notes have suddenly become less important to the story as a whole. OMG!

**warning:** blood, violence, and character deaths

* * *

**Act XXV: Casualties of War **

Predawn had just begun to light the halls of the Holy City palace when Keira slipped out.

Jak had come back into their bed only a few hours before. He had folded himself around her and promptly passed out. Keira had allowed herself to feel the reassuring weight of him again—after so long—before she had slipped out.

It had felt so good to feel him again, to be with him again. Keira felt as if something that had been sleeping dormant inside her for seventeen years had suddenly come back to life. How long had it been since she had stopped hoping he would come back to her?

Now here he was again, almost as if he had never left. Keira had been honest when she had told him there was no way to go back to what they had had, but she felt so alive now that he was here. She felt like she was ready to take on anything.

And she would have to. There was still a war to fight and she wasn't going to die. And she wasn't going to let Jak either. They had too much to sort out, too much to catch up on. Nothing was going to stop it from happening.

She all but bumped into Aithne as they crossed paths.

"Aithne!" Harried, Keira slapped her hands on her daughter's shoulders to hold her steady, and in place.

"Hey, Mom," Aithne said with a weak, little smile.

Keira felt guilt clench in her gut. So many things had happened the day before that she had barely had time to look for her daughter. She had caught mere glances of Aithne as she was moved to and fro, catching up on all that she had missed, dealing with the knowledge that Jak was alive. Just dealing.

"Aithne, I'm…" she trailed off, frowning. "You're room's _that_ way." When Aithne's winced, Keira's eyes narrowed. "Whose room did you come from?"

Aithne was silent.

"Cyren," Keira guessed and Aithne raised wide eyes to hers. "I knew he had a crush on you, Aithne. It was obvious. I guess… you feel the same way about him…?"

"I love him," Aithne mumbled, lowering her head again so her hair blocked her eyes from view.

"I know… I know I haven't been the best mother," Keira began weakly, bringing her daughter closer to her. "But I've always loved you. You know that, don't you, Aithne? I've always loved you."

"I know, Mom. I know that. And I—I didn't mean all those awful things I said to you the day… Annityn… when you were taken. I didn't mean it. I was just—angry, I guess—that you didn't get me. That you never did." Aithne lifted a shoulder miserably. "So I guess that you're… you're going to stay with him."

"Oh, Aithne. I—"

"It's okay, I expected you too." Aithne turned her head to the side, sucking a breath. "I just don't get how you can be with a guy… a guy who left you high and dry for seventeen years, without a word."

"I love him," Keira told her helplessly. "I can't change that, Aithne. And, no, I wouldn't if I could. Jak… everything he does he does for us. And I don't— can't — want to live without him." Smiling an odd half-smile she pushed aside some of Aithne's hair. "You're too young to understand, but no matter what Jak does, he always has my heart."

With a deep sigh, Aithne closed her eyes. For a moment she thought about Cyren and thought about his duties and about the heartbreak that was coming swiftly down the road. But she couldn't stop herself from loving him.

"No, Mom, I get it. I do." She lifted her eyes to Keira's again and held the connection. "Jak Mar… he can't be my father, Mom. He wasn't around when I needed one, and now I don't. He just _can't_ be."

"Aithne—"

She held up a hand and cut her off, shaking her head. "But I won't hate him. Maybe I can't, either. I won't—and I don't—hate him. Because you love him. And I love you. So I'll… I'll…"

As Aithne's shoulders hunched defensively, Keira brought her daughter against her chest and rocked her, one hand running down her blonde hair, right down to the blue tips.

"It's okay, Aithne. It's okay," Keira murmured soothingly. "It's alright. Everything will work out, you'll see."

"I'm going to try to understand him, Mom," Aithne promised, rubbing her face against Keira's willing bosom. "I'm going to try to understand him, for you."

Saying nothing, Keira merely held Aithne tight in her arms until the tremors passed. It was more than Jak, she knew. Everything was coming crashing down on Aithne's head and she needed someone to cling to.

So she let Aithne cling to her. Her mother.

Jak merely watched from his spot next to the bedroom door.

--&--

Venn awoke groggily, rolling onto his stomach, reaching out for Crea.

But she wasn't there.

Blinking, he lifted his head from his pillow, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. Light hadn't even begun to filter through his window, just grey and blue hints of the sun. But Venn knew that it meant they only had a few hours before they were back out on the battlefield.

"Crea?" he called, rubbing a hand across his face. He pushed himself up, his torso lifting off the bed.

She was seated in a chair she had moved to sit opposite their bed. She was already dressed in her normal attire and her battle armor was spread out beneath her. Crea watched him as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"The Mage is here," was all she said, standing. "I can feel him." Wordlessly, she opened her balcony doors and stepped outside.

He tied the blanket around his waist and hurried after her, shivering as his feet touched cold stone. Crea stood in front of him, her arms wrapped lightly around her own shoulders, staring out at the Sage-Harmona tents that dotted the sand.

"It's going to be alright," he promised her, not sure if he was telling the truth. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her into the warmth of his naked chest, pressing kisses along her neck.

"He brought reinforcements," Crea added softly. "I can feel them, too."

"It's going to be alright," he repeated, his grip on her tightening. He forced his voice to remain quiet even as he felt those raging emotions inside him. "I promise."

Crea just nodded, her eyes never leaving the horizon as dawn broke.

--&--

Roid prepared for battle as well. With Cyren up in a meeting with Sala, Ashelin, and Gareth, he sought out the Metal Heads.

They were just outside the gardens of the Holy City. As he entered their encampment, he could feel the preparation underway. There were no words spoken as Roid entered, not to him or any allies. Silence was the order of the day for the Metal Heads.

He knew that they were preparing themselves to die.

Kiff Fire was at the very back of the small encampment, her bulky body healed already from the wounds Hirmoyarbeshi had inflicted upon her. Espi Wind was by her side, his grip light but ready on his gun. He lifted a brow at Roid's approach.

"Kiff Fire," Roid said in greeting, giving a bow.

"What is it now, Roid?" Kiff wanted to know, shifting her weight on her awkward hunches. "We're preparing ourselves for _your_ battle."

"I was merely seeing if you are ready. The fighting will start up again by early morning." He had heard Gareth and Ashelin telling Sala the very thing as he had slipped passed them and into the gardens. "This battle will be the time when we need your power the most, Kiff."

"And you will have it. Unlike humans, we Metal Heads are true to our words." Kiff and Espi gave a short laugh at that and Roid nodded, admitting that he was inclined to agree with them. He had never met a Metal Head who had gone back on his word.

Even Kor—the bastard that he was—had promised to do all that he could do to win the human world for Metal Heads and he kept that promise until his demise.

"That is all I wished to say to you, Kiff," Roid told her and gave another bow. "Good luck and watch your back on the battlefield. I need to return." He turned to go, to find his place by Cyren's side.

"That whelp of yours will keep awhile, Roid," Kiff said suddenly, her voice stopping him. "Espi, leave us a moment. I wish to have a private discussion with Roid."

"But Kiff—" Epsi began instantly, not ready to simply let Roid alone with Kiff for a moment.

"Epsi," Kiff Fire countered quickly, sliding her eyes over to his form. "Roid is, first and foremost, a Metal Head. My life isn't going to be threatened if I stand alone with him for a few moments."

For a moment, it looked like Epsi was going to continue to argue. Then he turned on his heel and walked off, sending a long, meaningful look to Roid as he walked away.

"Kiff, what is it?"

"Roid, come here." Kiff motioned Roid to her side and wouldn't say anything else until Roid had moved. "We were friends once, weren't we, Roid?"

"Kiff," Roid began, trying to keep exasperation out of his voice. "What is this all about?"

"Roid, we _were_ friends when we were younger. But things got in the way. You with your human and I with my duties, but the friendship is still there." She sighed and hunkered down so she and Roid were nearly eye to eye.

"Please, Kiff, is this going to go anywhere? I have to get back—"

"To your human. Yes, I know, Roid. And I yes, it is going to go somewhere. I have a favor to ask of you." She took a pause of long silence, as if debating with herself who to approach him with it. "Today, Roid, many of my people will die."

"Yes, yes. I know that. That is what war is."

"I'm no stranger to sacrifice and death, Roid. We were raised on it, weren't we? Since birth." Kiff still didn't look down at him. Her eyes and her heart were somewhere else. "I'm aware that this day might claim my life as well."

"Don't say that," Roid interrupted quickly, shaking a hand lightly at her. "You're a survivor. The Metal Heads need you. You won't die, Kiff. Not today."

"You know there can be no guarantees, for anyone." She did face him now, her eyes bearing down into his. "That is why that I ask you, should I fall in battle today, that you take my place as leader."

"No, Kiff. You're not going to die today." Roid wasn't sure why he was so adamant of the fact. Kiff Fire was right. In this battle, there could be no guarantees, but he couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea of Kiff dying.

"Promise me," Kiff went on, as if he hadn't spoken. "Promise me that you'll lead our people, Roid. I won't be able to go to the afterlife without knowing that you've made this promise to me."

"But what about Epsi, he—"

"Would not make a good ruler. Neither he nor I have any illusions about that fact. You know that as well as I. If he knows that it is my wish that you lead, he'll follow you without question, and he is an excellent spymaster. But he is not made for ruling an entire race, Roid." She reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You are."

"I can't, Kiff. You know I can't. I gave it up years ago."

"As a friend, Roid, give me this promise." Kiff's eyes grew pained as she looked away from him. "I won't be able to go into battle peacefully without this promise."

"Fine. Fine. I promise, Kiff. Should something happen to you, I promise to assume rule of _our_ people. This is my promise to you." Roid tapped her paw lightly with his own, sealing the deal. "But you aren't going to die this day."

"No, I'm not," Kiff agreed. "Now run back to your human, Roid. It appears that you think that the whelp cannot last a moment without your guidance."

He gave her another bow before turning.

"But we both know that isn't true," Kiff mused after he was gone.

--&--

Once more, the Holy City army and the Sage-Harmona ranks were formed. Armor was handed out and prayers were said. Krimzon Guard soldiers joined the ranks of the Holy City army this time. They would charge together.

The people from Sage-Harmona were now mixed in with the force, their faces looking just the same as everyone else. Just as ready to die and fight for their beliefs.

"A soldier is coming," Annityn announced from her perch on the stone walls. She glanced down at Gareth as he stood in front of the tightly sealed gate. "He carries a white flag."

"Let him in," Sala ordered with an incline of her head, her body straight, narrow and taut beside her husband.

The soldier waited for the gate to slid open, a long flag pole held in his hand. A white flay flapped in the wind as the horse whinnied nervously. The soldier urged the horse a few feet closer so he stood directly in front of Gareth and Sala, who stood at the front of the ranks.

"Lord General Hirmoyarbeshi wishes to meet with your leaders on the battlefield," the soldier said, motioning toward the very place the meeting had taken place the day before. "Now that all the leaders are here, the proper battle can begin."

"Tell your 'Lord General' we will come," Gareth snapped and the soldier nodded, not waiting a moment longer before kicking his horse into the direction of his army.

"We should just kill him," Jak said sourly as he came up on Gareth's side, watching as the soldier rode away. "We _can_ just kill him and be done with it. One less soldier when we start."

"This is more than just fighting, Jak," Gareth said calmly, his voice even half-way amused. "This is politics as well. We both are trying to show that our side is better. Hirmoyarbeshi has extended this invitation to show that he is a gentleman. If we kill that soldier, if we don't go, we show that we are the barbarians and, thus, Hirmoyarbeshi is the one with the noble cause. Which, we both know, is not true."

"Fine. Fine. You do your politics things. I'm not going."

"Jak," Ashelin said suddenly, finally reaching Gareth and Sala. She was decked out in full Krimzon Guard battle gear and she looked at Jak with a slightly annoyed look. "You should—"

"This isn't my thing, Ashe," Jak said with a shrug. "You know that. I'll back you up wherever. I'll let you do your thing. But my place is here, with the soldiers. I'll charge with the rest. I'm no leader."

"I understand," Gareth agreed with a small nod. "Besides, I'll feel better if Jak's in the frontlines, with Torn."

"Hey, watch your back until I can find you." Jak stuck out his hand and Gareth shook it. They gave each other a hard, fast embrace. "Seriously, Gareth, watch it. I don't want to see you go down until we're back to back."

Gareth smirked at him as he reached out for the horse a soldier brought him. "You better watch yours, Jak," he answered as he mounted, waiting patiently for his wife and Ashelin to join him. "Until we're back to back."

As Ashelin and Sala joined him, Gareth looked down at Nyx and Nik as they moved to take their previously occupied spots. He nodded to them, knowing that he could completely trust in their ability to lead the front.

"Where's Cyren?" he asked, realizing that Cyren Yoshimoro deserved to meet Hirmoyarbeshi more than anyone else. "Cyren Yoshimoro!"

The young man in question came up without a horse and didn't look like he was too pleased with the idea of going with them. He already had his bow staff grasped tightly in his hands.

"Get him a horse," Sala ordered and a soldier darted to obey her command. "Cyren, you're the rightful heir to Sage-Harmona. If anyone should be riding to meet with him, it should be you."

"But I don't want to—"

"Face your destiny," Ashelin advised the boy with a tough look in her eyes. "This isn't the time to hesitate. These are your people and that is your city. It's time you fight for it. You're Cyren Yoshimoro, aren't you?"

Cyren lifted his eyes to the soldier that brought him his steed. For a moment, it looked as if he wouldn't take it. Then, very slowly, he took hold of the reins and mounted, his back stiff, straight and proud.

"Yes," he answered Ashelin. "I am."

"Then, let's go," Sala said and went to kick her horse into action.

"Wait!" Crea shouted suddenly, racing up to them, Venn on her heels. "I'm going with you." She looked more than able to keep up with them, even without a horse. There was something glittering dangerously in her eyes.

"Crea," Nyx said, glancing at her sister from her place beside her husband. "This is for… for the leaders. You need to go back into the lines, Crea. Prepare yourself for battle."

"I _need_ to be there," Crea snapped out, her voice holding more emotion in it. Then she controlled it and lifted her chin. "Besides, I am no longer with the Holy City, am I? I can go where I please."

"Well, look—" Ashelin began, frowning.

"We want to go as well," Tage said, stepping forward. Annityn was right behind him. "We betrayed those people. We switched sides. We need to face them."

Annityn remained silent, but seemed unwilling to move. Cyren gave Tage an odd look, surprised that Tage would even be able to refer himself and Annityn together. Tage merely nodded to Cyren.

"Where Crea goes, I go," Venn cut in, placing a hand on Crea's shoulder. "And I'm not part of the Holy City either."

Nyx gave a long-suffering sigh and Nik just shrugged.

"We all can't be soldiers, love," he pointed out.

"Let's just go," Gareth snapped. "We don't have time for this. If you're coming, come. If not, get in the ranks and stay focused!"

As they rushed out from the Holy City gates, Jak drew himself to Torn, who stood with Keira and Daxter. Both Torn and Keira would be fighting in the thick of things, with Daxter taking the walls and acting as the last line of defense.

He stared at them, memorizing their faces. His two best friends and the love of his life. He reached out and took Keira's hand, drawing her closer, as his eyes met with both Torn and Daxter.

"We're going to make it through this," Jak said slowly, almost as if he was absolutely sure of this. "And then we're going to go home. And we're going to make Haven City what it—we're going to make it _even_ better."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Jak." Torn paused and then punched him lightly in his shoulder. "No actual dying this time, okay Jak? Hate to have to take my anger out on your pathetic carcass."

Jak managed a laugh. "You got it, Torn."

"It's good to have you back buddy," Daxter said and grinned cheekily over at Jak, his smile hinting at what used to be Daxter. "We're gonna raised hell when we get back, aren't we?"

"Don't you think we're a little to old for that?"

"Oh right. Well. We have seventeen years to make up, you know." He turned and walked off, in the direction of the Healers.

"We are going to make it through this, aren't we?" Keira asked as Jak brought her into a hug. "We are going to go back to Haven City, right?"

"Yeah. Keira, we're all going to make it." Jak glanced down at his hand, felt the powerful trickle of magick. It had gotten stronger since his meeting with Lokin the previous night. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"Alright. I'm ready." Keira tapped the blade of her glaive, strapped tightly to her back. "Stick by me?"

"You bet."

Further down, Tess stood with Maelia, embracing her tearfully.

Sniffling, Tess brushed away some of Maelia's messy coils. "Now, you be careful, alright? I can't look after you today. I'll be in the back with the other Healers. So I need you to promise me that you'll be careful."

"I will, Mommy." Maelia gave her mother another fierce hug and fought back all her tears. "You be careful, too. Hirmoyarbeshi might send soldiers after the Healers."

They smiled at one another, grinning from ear to ear despite the fact that they were minutes away from war and death. Tess's eyes went sly as her smile turned down slightly.

"You and Ryu made up, didn't you?" Tess asked, her voice half teasing. Maelia blushed right to the roots of her hair.

"_Mom_!"

"A mother always knows." Tess said and hugged her daughter again. "I need… I need to go talk to your father, alright? Be careful, Maelia. Oh, please, be careful!"

Maelia gave her another nod before darting back to her position. Tess watched her go, her eyes wet and sad. She didn't say anything as Daxter approached her and took her hand. But she turned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Everything's going to be alright," Daxter promised her, stroking her hair. "We're all going to be fine. Jak said so."

"Yes, and he knows." Tess rubbed her nose and looked up at him. "Our daughter, Dax, she's so strong and proud and independent. She grew up without our help."

"I know, I know." Daxter pressed his mouth to her hair and held her tightly for another moment. "I can see it, Tess. But we'll make up for it. When we get back, we'll be the parents Maelia deserves."

It was such a bittersweet pride, seeing that Maelia had become so strong without them. She was an independent woman, able to take care of herself. And that gave every parent pride. But they had been absent in her life and it was bitter to know that Maelia's strength deserved no thanks from them.

Still sniffling, Tess nodded and watched as Daxter returned to his position.

_Mar,_ she thought, _watch over us._

--&--

In the Holy City palace, Sedet and the other children sat. They were directly in the center, guarded by high walls and stone. It was the safest place for them.

But they were all nervous. They were just children, ranging from infants to twelve years olds. Sedet walked between them all, making sure they were alright, making sure that everyone felt safe.

Of course, no one felt safe or secure. Some children were already orphans, and they sobbed quietly, wrapped in blankets. Everyone had nothing to say and nothing to do. Their families were fighting and dying and they, the children, had to wait.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" a little girl demanded, holding her baby brother against her breast, her cheeks caked with tears. "We're going to lose and they'll come in here and take us away and then they'll—"

"Stop it!" Merasaki cried, slapping her hands over her ears. "We're going to win! Stop lying!"

Sedet bent down beside the redhead and tried to smile at her, like his father had said to do. He was the leader of these children, he had to make them feel comfortable. He had to stop them from panicking.

"No, we're going to win this battle," Sedet said, trying to sound like his father whenever he spoke. Gareth had always sounded so sure of himself, so sure of his place and his focus and Sedet prayed he sounded a bit like his father. "You know why?"

Merasaki dropped her hands away and looked at him imploringly. "Tell us, Sedet. Tell us why."

Everyone chimed in, looking at Sedet with hope in their eyes. As if he held the key to salvation. He sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest and prayed that his father would be proud of him.

And that he wasn't lying.

"Because the _legends_ are fighting for us. Down there, on the battlefield, is Jak Mar. And with him is Keira Kinover. The gods favor them and they've done amazing things and they're fighting for us." He stood then, pride gleaming in his eyes. "We have heroes fighting for us so we're going to win."

"And my mommy and daddy are fighting, too!" Merasaki chimed in suddenly, jumping to her feet with a wide grin. "And so are the king and queen!"

"My daddy is going to win," Sedet said with certainty in his voice, and in his heart.

--&--

Hirmoyarbeshi and the Mage were waiting for them.

They were just two men on horses, but somehow there seemed to be an aura of danger around them. Perhaps that was just the Mage, old and wrinkled, smirking on his horse as he watched his enemies approach.

He recognized them, all of them. His brain was full of outside knowledge and secret things he shouldn't know. When he smiled it was full of a haughty nature. Even his horse seemed to be beyond human conception, drunk with magickal power.

Only Sala, Gareth, Ashelin, and Cyren rode horses. The rest of them—Annityn, Tage, Crea, and Venn—followed swiftly on their feet.

"Welcome," the Mage said in greeting, his smile enigmatic and dangerous as his eyes swept over each and every one of them. Yet it seemed as if his emotions were perfectly controlled.

His companion, on the other hand, was another story entirely. Hirmoyarbeshi's face was contorted in rage as his eyes blazed down onto Tage's. The younger man lifted his head proudly, not a hint of shame in his eyes for his betrayal of the army Hirmoyarbeshi had risen to conquer in the name of Sage-Harmona.

"I gave you a chance," he snarled at the former general, clenching his teeth. "I gave you a chance to beat back the weak blood of your father. But what do _you_ do? You spit in it and you choose to die on the wrong side."

"My father," Tage shot back, his voice tight and controlled and his fists clenched. "Was a good man. A brave man. A man with _morals_. That, Hirmoyarbeshi, is something _you_ lack."

"Rotten son of a whore," Hirmoyarbeshi snarled but turned his anger onto Annityn when Tage remained silent. "And _you_. I saved you from the dirty desert tribe and gave you a purpose. And you betray me. I should have slaughtered you with your mother."

Annityn said nothing. And not an inch of her moved. From her eyes to her toes. It seemed, as if for a moment, that she did not even breathe as she looked coldly into Hirmoyarbeshi's eyes blazing eyes.

"Come now. It will do no good. We've all cast our lots in and now we'll see the hazard of the die." The Mage was smiling as he placed one of his gnarled, wrinkled hands on Hirmoyarbeshi's arm. But his eyes drifted over to Annityn as well. "You're the only one I didn't see coming, you know. I too often underestimate the power of the human psyche."

Again, Annityn was stone silent.

But the Mage was already moving on. This time, his eyes slid up and down the form of Crea. He smiled slowly. "Ah, _Crea_."

The way he drawled out her name made the blonde woman in question shudder in horror and disgust, her eyes lowering instantly, flashing a blazing hatred. Venn stepped in front of her, his face overwhelmed with rage and hate.

"And you," the Mage went on, lifting a finger at Venn. "_You_ were very useful to me."

"I'll kill you," Venn snarled, his fists clenched at his side.

Jovially, the Mage laughed. "That, my boy, I _seriously_ doubt." In some sign, he tapped two fingers against his temple. "They don't call me the Mage for nothing, you know."

"That's enough," Ashelin snapped and glared over at Hirmoyarbeshi. "Why exactly did you call us out here, Hirmoyarbeshi?"

"To let you know," Hirmoyarbeshi answered, his eyes drifting over to Sala and Gareth. "There will be no surrender offered this time, Your Majesties. Your children and the old might be spared, if I'm in the right mood. If not…" he trailed off but there was no need for him to finish his sentence.

Everything suddenly went cold with Hirmoyarbeshi's words. It was a hard reminder of what they were fighting for.

"Oh, and is the Yoshimoro brat here?" As if noticing Cyren for the very first time, he blinked. "Do your family some honor, boy, and step forward."

Proudly, with his head high and his eyes bright, Cyren did. He didn't say anything but the look in his eyes did it for him. Through violet eyes was a promise to set things right. And Cyren meant to keep it.

Hirmoyarbeshi laughed. "You look like your father," he said and then paused, a slow grin covering his mouth. "Or, better yet, your aunt."

The young boy's face tightened but his emotions remained under control. "Hirmoyarbeshi, for all that you've done, for all those you've killed and harmed over the years, I'm going to see that you pay. And I'm going to reclaim my birthright."

"You sound like your father and aunt," Hirmoyarbeshi added, almost as if he was bored. "Spitting image of their side of the family, I'd say."

Cyren's eyes narrowed.

"That's enough," Gareth snapped angrily, gently pushing Cyren back. Cyren knew that he was going to have to move fast, as well. He was the target the moment the battle started. "We want to get to beating back you and your Mage."

Laughing, Hirmoyarbeshi raised his hands skyward. "The heavens are going to have to make room for the heroes I'm sending them."

Then he dropped them.

Like that the battle began. Cyren lunged backwards, rolling away from the sword Hirmoyarbeshi swung at him. The soldiers from both sides rushed forward while Cyren kept rushing back. He knew that he was retreating and it bothered him, but he also knew that he had to gain some leverage in the fight and Hirmoyarbeshi had all the strength.

He leapt down from his horse and started running right into the fey, ducking swords and bodies as he lost Hirmoyarbeshi in the mesh of death.

Aithne moved fast to him, her sais twirling around in her fingers as she sliced through a throat, leaping over the dead body to reach him. Jak was right behind, the Virgae-Mors sword already covered in blood. He nodded to Cyren once and kept going, intent on meeting with Gareth and Sala.

Keira wasn't far behind, either, but she ended up right in the center beside Torn. Jak paused, glancing over at Keira, but then turned and went after Gareth. With Torn by her side and a glaive in her hand, Keira was more than capable by herself.

Besides, he had made a promise.

Kiff Fire and her Metal Heads roared into the field moments after it started. They started taking down Sage-Harmona soldiers with a vengeance. And no one was deadlier than Kiff, who moved with amazing grace and deadly accuracy. Epsi Wind was by her side, as always, shooting whoever got in her way, protecting whoever was on his side.

Epsi Wind even shot a Sage-Harmona soldier who came after the Healers. Kiff Fire looked over at him in surprise, crushing the skull of a soldier who dangled between her claws. Then she nodded toward the Healers and Epsi moved to obey. He was to protect them.

Gareth was still mounted on his horse. Sala was by his side when she saw Ashelin being roughly cornered. She pointed quickly to Gareth before making her way over to help Ashelin out. Both women slid out of their saddles and disappeared into the dirt and bodies as the war raged on.

"Hey!" Jak called as he reached Gareth's side, hitting Gareth on the leg lightly. "Miss me?"

All around them was a wild, raging storm of people and violence. Cyren coughed and choked on dust and dirt as he fought beside Aithne. The soldiers were wild, driven forth by the need to win, to bring themselves honor.

Cyren felt sick to his stomach. He was killing so many people and they all looked the same, covered in dirt and blood.

Suddenly, Aithne went sprawling into the dirt, hitting her shoulder hard and hissing out in pain. For a wild moment, Cyren couldn't see her, lost among the bodies that were in constant movement.

"Aithne!" he called as she came back into his view. Aithne was pushing herself back onto her feet and Cyren rushed to her. "Aithne!"

Instinct had him ducking sideways and avoiding Hirmoyarbeshi as he charged into Cyren. As Cyren sidestepped to avoid being decapitated he lost track of Aithne again. But Aithne would have to wait because Hirmoyarbeshi was refusing to let Cyren out his sight.

"I'm going to kill _you_, boy," Hirmoyarbeshi shouted over the rage of war. "Just liked I killed your family."

His eyes narrowed and Cyren was done backing up. With a war cry, he leapt forward, swinging his bow staff in a high arch. The move surprised Hirmoyarbeshi enough to allow Cyren to get close enough to stab him in the chest. But Hirmoyarbeshi caught on and he pressed his boot to Cyren's torso and kicked him away.

The moment his back hit the ground, Cyren was scrambling to his feet. This man had murdered his family, killed everything that was his, and threatened the lives of those he loved. Cyren would not let him escape the battle alive.

But the sad truth was that Hirmoyarbeshi was simply a better fighter than Cyren. He was a Lord General, while Cyren had merely been trained for a number of years of his life. He could thrust his bow staff out, twirl it around, do any number of advanced moves with it but Hirmoyarbeshi was always ready to parry.

In a last ditch effort, Cyren made a risky twirl around, angling himself backwards and jabbing his staff hard over his bent head. He felt the resistance as he cut through Hirmoyarbeshi's wrist and he heard the man cry out, but he knew it wasn't nearly enough.

Sweat rolled down his face as Hirmoyarbeshi sent a swift, hard kick to the side of his cheek. Cyren rolled into the dirt and kept on rolling, trying to gain momentum to kick himself back to his face.

Hirmoyarbeshi was on him the moment he was up and Cyren turned just in time for his bow staff to block the downward angle of Hirmoyarbeshi's sword thrust.

Instantly, Cyren knew it was too late. He hadn't put up the defense in time. Hirmoyarbeshi easily keep his sword going straight through his bow staff and down into his chest—

Annityn stepped in between the two of them and the sword slid into her shoulder instead of Cyren's heart.

Even before Hirmoyarbeshi yanked his sword free, Cyren was on him. He swung his staff hard and the sharp end of it connected with Hirmoyarbeshi's face. The Lord General howled as he went tumbling off his horse into the dirt.

Cyren turned to make his way to Annityn, and saw that Tage already had her, Annityn's weapons gripped in his free fist and the girl's body in his arms.

"I've got her, Lord Cyren!" Tage shouted and disappeared back into the rush, heading right for Tess and the other Healers who hovered at the back of the battle. To her, Tage muttered angrily, "You idiot. What the hell where you thinking!?"

With Annityn heading off to be healed Cyren whirled back into his battle. He ducked a body that was thrown over his head and rushed to Hirmoyarbeshi as the man pulled himself to his feet.

There was a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back, and Cyren struggled against it. But then he recognized Gareth's hand.

"I want to fight him," Gareth said, looking toward the man as he drunkenly got to his feet, wiping the blood from his eyes.

Cyren almost said no. He wanted to take down Hirmoyarbeshi. This was the man who taken everything from him and the man that should have been his kill. Not Gareth's. A Yoshimoro's.

But he nodded all the same toward Gareth and ran in the opposite direction, calling out for Aithne.

Gareth broke into a run towards Hirmoyarbeshi. The man, bleeding from the side of his face, pulled himself up into his horse's saddle and looked back at the end of his own frontlines.

"Mage!" Hirmoyarbeshi shouted, his voice carrying even over the roar of the battle. "It is time to play our trump card!"

The Mage, who had placed himself at the back of the Sage-Harmona army to shoot from afar, looked toward the Lord General and nodded. He lifted his staff high into the air, the tip already glowing bright red.

"_Arise and obey!_" the Mage ordered, his voice somehow filling the entire battlefield.

Silence filled the air. Human and Metal Head alike lifted their heads as the Mage's power flowed over the battlefield. Blinding white light rendered everyone immobile for a moment until the smoke cleared.

And when it did countless Experiments stood behind the Mage, their faces lagging and their jaws slack. But there was an aura of danger around them and at the Mage's commander they would kill without mercy.

They were humans turned machines.

"Kill them," the Mage ordered and the Experiments sprung into action. Within the blink of an eye they were on the Holy City army, mercilessly cutting into them.

But right now, Gareth had one problem he had to solve first.

"Just you and me," he muttered to Hirmoyarbeshi as he approached, ducking an Experiment that had thrown itself at him. He swung his sword upward and cut the creature's head off, already knowing it was a mercy killing.

"I've been waiting for this," Hirmoyarbeshi said with a smirk and they charged at each other.

Sweat bunched on his arms as Gareth raised his sword to deflect the blade Hirmoyarbeshi jabbed at him. The Lord General's horse whinnied and leapt backward, kicking the air with its front hooves.

Their swords meet again, Gareth and Hirmoyarbeshi evenly matched. Gareth swung himself, trying to make up for his disadvantage of height, but Hirmoyarbeshi twisted his war horse around and Gareth missed him by a mile.

He stumbled back using the forward motion as momentum as he swung himself around, swinging his sword and cutting right across Hirmoyarbeshi's legs.

"This is the last time!" Hirmoyarbeshi roared and lunged at him, his horse galloping toward where Gareth stood.

Again, their swords meet. But Gareth feel exhaustion creeping in on him. Even though he lifted his sword and held back Hirmoyarbeshi's attack, he was too tired to do little else. And it was impossible to land a fatal hit with Hirmoyarbeshi on his horse.

Gareth arched forward, bringing the hilt of his sword hard across Hirmoyarbeshi's kneecap. He barely managed to dodge the sword that went swinging passed his face. He twisted the sword and jammed it upward, aiming for Hirmoyarbeshi's chin.

But the Lord General blocked it and had Gareth retreating with another colorful kick. Then the battle between them began all over again.

Jak saw them from his position nearly completely opposite from them. Gareth was severely dwarfed beside Hirmoyarbeshi's mountain of a steed. And though Jak knew Gareth and Hirmoyarbeshi were evenly matched, Gareth had no horse while Hirmoyarbeshi did.

_Hang in there, Gareth_, Jak thought and began to make his way over to his old friend. He caught the arm of a Sage-Harmona soldier that barreled in front of him. He dislocated it and left the soldier withering on the ground.

Hirmoyarbeshi and Gareth were just two men fighting a brutal, deadly battle with swords. There was no banter between them, just sheer concentration. Gareth attempted to flip his sword down and jam it into Hirmoyarbeshi's knee.

But Hirmoyarbeshi's foot shot out of nowhere. It connected hard with Gareth's chest and the man went stumbling back, sucking in a hard breath, ready to go at it again, to win the day for his wife and son.

Out of nowhere Hirmoyarbeshi's sword cut down. Gareth looked up just as the sword slid down into his chest, right passed his armor, and into his stomach.

Everything inside Jak went ice cold.

Gasping, Gareth cupped his chest as Hirmoyarbeshi yanked his sword out. Blood sprayed across Gareth's face as he took in another gasping, rasping breath and blood seeped between his fingers and rushed down his shirt. Jak was already moving to him, toward Gareth, as he stumbled back.

_Hold on, Gareth! Hold on! I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm…_

For a dizzying moment it looked as if Gareth regained his strength and his footing. But his foot slid against rock and sand and red splashed across his lips as he started to stumble back again, clawing at the air before he began to sink slowly—agonizingly slow—to the ground.

When Gareth, cupping his chest again, fell to the dirt and disappeared into the battlefield, Jak started screaming. With his Virgae-Mors sword raises high, Jak started racing forward. All he could see was Hirmoyarbeshi and how he wasn't bleeding.

_Gareth, you better be alright._

But he had seen the way Gareth's eyes had widened in pain…

He refused to let himself think about it. But he realized as another war cry sounded that he was not the only one to see Gareth fall.

Kiff Fire started racing to Hirmoyarbeshi. Her sheer bulk would crush his heart and then Kiff's talon would take off the rest. The bloodlust was already present in Kiff's eyes. She had dreamt about this for years.

_Time to start now. Time, Hirmoyarbeshi!_

The Mage lifted his staff casually and something hard hit Kiff in her chest and she went spiraling sideways. She hit Jak Mar on her way to the ground and sent them both sprawling into the dirt. Jak's sword slid from his hands and disappeared under a rush of feet.

Groaning under the crushing weight of Kiff Fire, Jak managed to push her onto her side and scramble to his feet. He looked around vainly for his sword, but the legendary blade was long lost into the rush of the battle.

"Kill him," Kiff Fire rasped, her limbs twitching as the Mage's power left her. Dark blood ran down the side of her face as she held her cracked, golden skull. "You have to… kill him…"

Jak knew the Metal Head was long dead before he completely regained his balance. Kiff Fire, the Metal Head leader, was nothing more than a massive, bulky body bleeding onto the yellow sand. He didn't have time to mourn or to spare her a glance.

Hirmoyarbeshi would not get away with it.

A hot blast of magick shot by the side of his face and Jak jerked quickly around to the Mage, whose staff was now pointed directly him. Jak growled as he cart-wheeled away, sending the body of an Experiment thudding to earth.

Roid appeared on the Mage's side and threw himself right at the old man. They both went tumbling from the horse to the ground. Roid leapt to his feet, his talons bright with blood and ready to add the Mage's to their collection.

Calmly, the Mage pushed himself up. He was gone the moment Roid lunged at him again, only the tiniest trace of magick in his place.

Across the battlefield, Jak's eyes locked with Roid's. Then they both turned to look at Hirmoyarbeshi as he and his horse tore into Holy City lines. Jak gave a sharp nod and started toward him.

It didn't matter that Jak had no weapons. Jak was deadly without them. And Hirmoyarbeshi had taken down Gareth and Kiff Fire and now he was taking down faceless soldier after faceless soldiers.

And it was time he paid.

"Jak!" Keira cried, appearing feet away. Jak caught the glaive she tossed to him and watched as Keira darted over to Aithne and Cyren's side, grabbing a sword from a fallen enemy. Sig rushed up to her side, flanking her left, and together, like a time, they starting methodically taking enemies down.

With his wife's weapon in hand, Jak picked up his speed. He wasn't used to the light weightiness of the glaive, but his muscles—strained and aching—adjusted to the sudden shift. The silver, curved blade glinted in the sunlight as he made a beeline straight for Hirmoyarbeshi.

The Lord General saw him coming and he raised an eyebrow questioningly, almost half amused. But the look quickly died down as Jak continued his mad charge, swinging the glaive out in an upward arch.

The power behind Jak's attack had Hirmoyarbeshi's hold on his horse lessen. Sensing the weakness, Jak twisted his arm and brought the blunt hilt of the glaive down across the horse's head. The beast reared up, whinnying, and Hirmoyarbeshi went tumbling off and into the dirt.

But he was up even before Jak could reach him. He caught Hirmoyarbeshi's sword with the curved blade and twisted it away from his face, his feet sliding in the sand as he sliced his blade through the air.

Hirmoyarbeshi was good, Jak would have to admit that much. He was fast and deadly and had every intention of winning.

Their blades meet. Jak grunted and pressed his whole weight into the sword. He felt the hot steel nearly touch his throat as he strained his neck forward and his foot nearly lost its standing.

Without warning, Jak jerked his head forward. His forehead cracked hard against Hirmoyarbeshi's the man stumbling back in surprise, a line of blood running down his face.

Jak swung the glaive's deadly blade toward Hirmoyarbeshi's stomach. Hirmoyarbeshi, despite the blood dripping into his eye, slapped his sword out and blocked Jak's attack, hissing at him.

But that was what Jak had been hoping he would do. Hirmoyarbeshi might have been a good soldier, but he wasn't like Jak at all. Hirmoyarbeshi was bound by rules and strict training. Jak was not.

A hard grin crossed his face and Jak jerked the glaive straight up. The hard, hollow staff hit Hirmoyarbeshi in the face. Hirmoyarbeshi's hold weakened just enough for Jak to twist himself away, the spin giving him a hard momentum.

"You son of a bitch!" he shouted as loud as he could, choking on dust and the putrid smell of death in the air. "You son of a bitch!"

"You can't—" Hirmoyarbeshi tried to say.

The glaive cutting right into his hip stopped him. Gasping out in pain, Hirmoyarbeshi looked down as Jak dug the glaive all the way into his body, breaking bone and hitting vital organs.

Blood poured down the Lord General leg as Jak backed away. Hirmoyarbeshi made some vain attempt to halt the flow of blood even as he fell face first into the dirt. He clutched uselessly at the earth as Jak hovered him.

"You can't—you can't beat—" Hirmoyarbeshi stuttered, choking on his own blood as he stared up at just. "Sage-Harmona—you can't—"

He never finished his thought. He was dead and his body thudded to the ground, his face pressed into the sand.

There was no taste of victory in Jak's mouth. All around him the war raged on and he could smell death and the cries of pain. The Experiments were driven and deadly without humanity.

At the very back of Sage-Harmona's line Jak saw the Mage, directing the Experiments with his power. His fingers were aglow with his magick and he was smiling, even though he had to know that by know Hirmoyarbeshi had fallen.

Then it hit Jak.

_We're losing?_

Even with Hirmoyarbeshi dead and the Sage-Harmona beaten back—even with the Holy City joined with the citizens of Sage-Harmona and the Metal Heads—somehow they were loosing.

It was the Mage. Suddenly, it was clear. The Mage was the link that kept them going. Not Hirmoyarbeshi. As long as the Mage still breathed he would control the Experiments. And the Experiments weren't like normal humans. They didn't know pain or fear and so they would not stop.

Not until everyone of those fighting for the Holy City were dead.

Quickly he turned to find Sala or Ashelin—_oh Goddess, Gareth_. To try to formulate a quick plan of action to take the Mage down.

Pain exploded in Jak's side.

Gasping, he twisted his torso around and gripped the shoulders of an Experiment as it pressed its talon-like fingers into Jak's side. He felt the crack of his ribs as hissed out in pain, digging his fingers into the bare, pale skin of the dead-eyed creature.

Keira's glaive cut the Experiment's throat and Jak cried out in pain as the hand was ripped from his side as the dead body fell to the earth.

He grasped his wound, felt the blood pour out of him, and bent over into the sand.

It didn't seem possible. They were supposed to be winning this. They had killed Hirmoyarbeshi, beaten back his army, brought all those who stood for goodness together… and they were still losing?

_This wasn't supposed to happen! We were supposed to win!_

The war raged on around him. He could hear the shouts and the screams of his allies, the grunts and howls of the Experiments. Black dots appeared in front of his eyes as he drew in a shaky breath.

_Keira…_

There had to be a way to get up. A way to win. A way to fight back and beat them. But Jak was so tired and exhausted. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep forever. He couldn't move and his body was numbing as the warmth from his blood left him.

_I'm sorry, Keira._

Desperately, Jak called out for Keira in his mind, but everything that needed to be said and done was lost in the heavy sounds of war.

A cold hand closed around Jak's throat and he closed his eyes. He pictured Keira and Aithne and everyone who was his friend. In his mind he held Keira and held her tight and told her he loved her and closed his eyes, trying to find a way to accept what was happening, praying that Keira would understand—

Then hands were yanking him up.

"Jak!" Aithne's face came into his hazy view and he stared at her as she dragged him into a sitting position. There was blood on her face, caked with dirt, and her arms were cut and bruising but there was still strength in them. "Tess!"

The blonde woman came rushing over to them, her own body pale from using so much magick at once. But her face was coated with determination and she reached out for Jak, more than ready to heal him.

An Experiment barreled right into them. Tess hit the ground screaming, pushing at her enemy. Something sharp prickled her neck and she knew that she was going to die, right there, and so was Jak because he was bleeding so bad.

But then the body of the Experiment slumped against her. Hot blood splashed her cheeks as it poured out from the tiny dent in the creature's skull. Even though Tess couldn't see—because it was so far away and because her eyes were clouded with tears—she felt Daxter lower his gun, breathing hard.

"Mommy!" Maelia kicked the Experiment's body off her and dragged Tess to her feet. "Are you alright? Mommy?"

Tess was already looking for Jak and Aithne. But a wall of bodies blocked her view and she couldn't remember where she had been running to.

"You have to help me find Aithne and Jak!" she shouted at her daughter, gripping her arm hard. "Maelia, Jak's injured."

"Alright," Maelia began and then quickly cut herself off, firing her gun as an Experiment pounced on them. They backpedaled away, dodging the wicked fast swipes of deadly talons, Maelia with one arm thrown out protectively in front of Tess.

Daxter took another bull's-eye and sent the Experiment twitching into the earth.

"Faster!" the Mage shouted, pointing toward the Holy City. "Harder! Drive them back!" His fingers were glowing as bright as the jewel on his staff and his eyes were mad for bloodlust.

And his bloodlust drove the Experiments on.

Aithne pressed her shaking hands into Jak's wound as he gasped and gurgled underneath her. She kept her head lower and her body still, braced for any attack that would fall on them in such a venerable position.

"Don't you dare," she hissed at him, gritting her teeth as she clamped her hands firmly over the wound. "_Don't you dare_."

"Ait—Aithne run," Jak rasped, his body twitching underneath her hands. The heat of his blood washed over them. He reached out and grabbed the hand she had closed over his wound to stop the bleeding. "_Run_."

Then the strangest thing happened. Aithne looked right into his eyes, right into them, and it was like watching a well open. Emotion just seemed to swim there for an impossible moment.

The first tear came. Then the second. And suddenly a never-ending waterfall was running Aithne's face. She sobbed messy, rasping tears, her cheeks scrunching up as she wept, pressing her head right into Jak's bloody wound. She sucked in a hard breathe, releasing it on a great, sobbing exhale.

"You can't leave us again," she managed as hot, salty tears started to hit Jak's cheeks. "You can't leave our lives, not after you just entered them. _I_ won't let you. I won't let Mom cry herself to sleep every night from missing you."

"Aithne—"

"I want to get to know you better, too," she cut in, choking on another sobbing. "I want to know who you are, Jak Mar."

"Aithne!" Jak tried to point but he was too weak. He could only look over Aithne's shoulder in horror as the Experiment loomed over them.

Aithne turned just in time to watch as the Experiment was thrown to the ground. Cyren pressed his jagged bow staff right into the creature's chest and sent it to the floor without so much as a twitch.

Cyren dropped to his knees by Aithne's side. He watched as she pressed her hands into Jak's side, her hands dying crimson. He touched her arm lightly, his face tight with worry and sympathy.

"Aithne, we have to retreat soon. Sala's going to sound the alarm," he said as gently as he could. As Aithne said nothing, Cyren looked over to meet with Jak's eyes. They both knew the same thing.

There was no way to move him. Not without killing him.

Unaware of their silent conversation, Aithne lifted her head and surveyed the battleground before her. She could see her mother, battling beside Sig. Keira had managed to find Jak's Virgae-Mors sword and she was cutting through her enemies with it, Sig carefully watching her back, taking down those she couldn't.

Sala and Ashelin were the only people on the Holy City side left mounted. Sala's horse was covered in blood and Ashelin's armor was gleaming with sweat. They were doing what they could to stop the flow of Experiments but it was useless. Ashelin was bleeding heavily from her shoulder and there was a trickle of blood flowing steadily down Sala's face.

Torn and Ryu were beside Tess and Maelia as they bent down to bind up a fallen soldier. Torn's face was tight and his leg looked as it had been nearly broken in half. He wasn't giving up and he wasn't letting anyone get close to Tess and Maelia as they worked. Ryu was guarding their back, his teeth gritted and his face tight with pain. He had an assortment of wild bruises and lacerations across his face and body, but he paid them no mind. Tess's skin was pale and clammy from using so much magick and Maelia arms were shaking so badly it looked like she would just drop her gun.

Further back stood Annityn, Tage, and Roid. Annityn had recovered from her shoulder wound and now supported Tage with her arm as he slumped against her, blood pouring out from his mouth as he gripped his wounded hip. Roid was in front of Annityn, acting as her guard, as she kept Tage on his feet.

Crea and Venn had been separated from the Holy City ranks and they fought by Epsi Wind. Venn had lost his coat somewhere in the fray and his arms were covered in his own blood. Crea's leggings were ripped and torn and she had cuts decorating the bared skin. Epsi Wind was bleeding from his chest, his scaly hide thick enough to keep it from hindering him. They were all exhausted, and all bloody, barely on their feet as they tried to fight back.

They were losing. Aithne could see it. She felt it in the air as she sucked in a breath. This war had been lost the moment the Mage had summoned forth the Experiments. They couldn't beat back what wasn't alive. What didn't know defeat.

_It wasn't supposed to happen like this…_

"Not like this," Aithne whispered as she turned her head and met Cyren's eyes. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. We were supposed to _win_."

A Metal Head went crashing right by Aithne's side. She yelped in surprise and Cyren threw his arms across her face, shielding her from the dirt and pebbles that were kicked up in the body's wake.

_Not like this!_

Something burst inside her, almost like a dam. Fire coiled low in her gut and Aithne spasmed in sudden pain, taking her hand away from Jak's wound. Her insides were heating up, burning. _On fire_.

Cyren hissed and snatched his hands away from her face, as if her skin physically burned. He stared at her, his eyes wide in horror and his mouth moving to form a name.

An inhuman howl suddenly rose up. All around them the Experiments stopped moving, their talons turning on themselves. Each and every one of them clawed at their skin, as if they were being destroyed from the inside out. Their screams of agony were inhuman, unimaginable as human and Metal Head alike stopped fighting to watch them wither in pain.

The Mage, watching, frowned suddenly and his jaw gave one mighty spasm. He lifted his staff and a magickal shield appeared around him.

"Cyren," Jak hissed, his face clenching with pain. His hand clenched into a fist, the muscles twitching. "Cyren, _run_."

"What?" Cyren looked down at Jak and gasped. Aithne was motionless behind him, her eyes focusing on the distance.

Jak was hissing in pain, his fingers tightening on his pant leg. The blood flowing steadily from his wound boiled and bubbled, as if it was being heated. It was a searing, unbearable pain and Cyren could only watch in fascination. The boiling blood seemed to be stitching up Jak's wound; the skin was searing itself back together.

Aithne gave a wild howl, clawing at her throat. Fire was eating up her esophagus and she couldn't breathe. Her whole body felt like it would explode. She tried to suck in a breath but tasted only the heat of fire. It licked at the side of her temples, at the tips of her fingers.

And she could only see one thing. One thing over and over again. _Get it out! Get it out!_

Without truly understanding what she was doing, she threw her power out. Everyone around her collapsed. Fire lapped at her enemies, and half were dead before they hit the ground, their insides melted apart. Even fewer got back off the ground. And those that did took to the hills, survival instincts taking over them.

"Come back!" the Mage shouted at the top of his lungs, shaking his staff at the Experiments as they scampered off. "Come back!"

But, for this one moment, the Experiments were human and they followed only their instincts to escape and live.

Sage-Harmona and Holy City soldier alike hit the ground as well, the fire scalding them. But they were spared the torment and the pain the Experiments were given.

But Aithne kept on withering. She didn't know what was happening, all she knew was that she had to keep throwing the fire away from her before she burned up. Her skin was a too hot to touch and her eyes turned bright deadly white.

"Aithne!" Cyren shouted, not daring to touch her. Aithne's skin turned brilliant white, hot white, and the heat emitted off her in waves.

It was as if the world had stilled. As if everything was in slow motion. For a moment, there was only Aithne, her white, burning face tilted to the sky as power leaped off her in long waves.

To breathe was to taste the power flowing from her. She was everywhere for one long moment, touching everything. Aithne Hagai _was_ everything. The world was tinted in the same brilliant light that Aithne was colored in.

Then it stopped. The power died just as quickly as it came. The white light that filled the air disappeared like smoke after a fire. It was as if nothing had happened. As if the Experiments hadn't been struck down in one mighty blow. As if the Holy City hadn't been losing moments before.

As if Jak had never been injured.

There was only Aithne, staring out into the nothingness, her face perfectly still and unreadable. Her eyes were dilated to the point of discoloration. The only part of her that moved were her hands, which shook as if an earthquake rocked them.

Blood started pouring down her face, seeping from her very pours. It was as if the wild power that had fluxed from her had widened the pours of her skin enough for blood to escape through. She bled from almost every part of her body.

Weakly she collapsed against Cyren moaning in his arms. Jak pushed himself into a sitting position, his wound completely healed.

"Wha—" Cyren stuttered, his body shaking as he tried to wipe the blood away from Aithne's face. Even now the flow of it from her pours was slowing, but he knew that she was dangerously close to losing _too_ much blood. "What?"

"Aithne! Jak!" Keira shouted as she raced across the now still battlefield. She dropped to her knees beside Cyren, shakily pressing her hands against her daughter's sticky shoulders. "What happened to her? Is she going to be alright?"

Jak didn't answer her as he stared hard at Aithne's still form.

Sala slid from her horse and nodded to Ashelin, who went to find her son and husband. Nik and Nyx—both exhausted and wounded—flanked her quickly and followed her as she approached the Mage. They were covered in a fine sheen of sweat and Nik was limping badly on his right leg. Nyx's eye was swollen and her back was bleeding in a slow, steady pace.

"Surrender," Sala croaked, her voice hoarse from shouting. She carried a deep wound, but there was something growing in her heart. She pointed her sword at the Mage. "Do it. _Now_."

The Mage raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I don't think I'm quite ready to give up yet."

Smirking, the Mage pulled the robe off his body. He, completely naked and snow-white pale, stood before Sala. Then he backed up and the whole earth began to quake.

"Move!" Nik grabbed Sala's arm and he and Nyx hastily brought their queen backwards, away from the Mage.

Suddenly there was a burst of crimson fire. The power was so much stronger than Aithne's. It consumed the Mage whole, swallowing his face. Fire burst out like a geyser, up to the sky. Heat seemed to touch everything. Those who got to their feet shook with fear as the wave of power washed over them.

And then, the Mage rose up.

Only he wasn't the Mage. His body was longer, his arms stretched out with flaming feathers. His face had been transformed into a beak and his feet were talon like and sharp. A long, fiery tail swished back and forth as beady, black eyes looked down at the world below it.

The Mage had transformed into a bird. And just not any bird.

Nyx sucked in a breath, instantly recognizing the body shape and the flaming feathers. She nearly collapsed to her knees in fear, but she couldn't move. Nik grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her against his body, as if he wanted to protect her.

"The Phoenix…" she whispered in horror.

"No," Crea hissed out as she and Venn hit the dirt hard, grappling for a hold on one another as the Phoenix raised high above them. "_No_."

The Phoenix climbed higher into the air, fire shooting off of it and hitting the ground. Tiny, hard balls of pure flame and power. Its call screeched high above their heads as it caught the rays of the sunlight.

"What do we do!?" Keira demanded as she stared at the Phoenix. She turned to her husband. "Jak, what do we do?"

Shaking off what fatigue was in him, Jak pushed himself to his feet. His palm was tingling, like spider webs of power shooting up into his arms. He looked at Keira steadily in her eyes.

"I have a plan," he told her and reached out for her. "Keira, give me your—"

"Wait," Roid interrupted as he came up on Cyren's side. His eyes met with Jak's. "You can't get passed the Phoenix's power. No matter what you have up your sleeve, it won't let you get passed him. Human skin is too fragile."

"We don't have much of a choice," Jak pointed out. "What else can we do?"

Wordlessly, Roid bent down and Cyren turned his head to look up at him. "Rule the city well, Cyren. Do your aunt's memory and dreams proud." The Metal Head turned and leaned over to Aithne, rubbing away some of the blood covering her face. "Have a good life, Aithne. Live well."

His claws closed over Aithne's sais, nearly forgotten in the dirt beside her. Roid stood, the weapons clutched tightly in one hand, and stared at the Phoenix and it released another wave of fiery magick.

"Roid, what—"

But Roid was already running across the desert, refusing to listen to Cyren's words. He knew what needed to be done, and Jak would know how to finish what Roid started. All he could do was give them the opening.

"_Roid!_"

Fire hit him hard, the flames licking and scolding his flesh. The metal of the sais in his hands started to melt and his scales started to peel away from his body, the sheer fire making them loose their hold. But Roid would not be stopped. He could not be stopped. He kept going.

_Rosalyn…_

The power of the flames was nearly enough to force him back, but Roid refused to surrender his ground. He kept moving, kept digging his feet in and pushing onward, even as he felt the blood bubble and boil in his veins.

_"Do you honestly think that you can kill me? That you stand a chance. I'm immortal. I'm beyond you, foolish Metal Head,"_ the Phoenix hissed into his ears. It was a telepathic link, Roid knew instantly. Birds, even ones as powerful as the Phoenix, could not speak.

Bending his head into his chest, he kept going. Though he couldn't say it Roid thought his retort to the Phoenix, knowing very well he could hear him. _I'm not here to beat you. I'm hear to help someone else do the honor._

His sais connected with the Phoenix's torso and Roid pushed himself into the air, his wings spreading and lifting him up even as they caught fire. The Phoenix howled and jerked as Roid buried the second sai deep into his chest.

They rose up even higher into the air. Roid's claws burned and peeled as the fire from the Phoenix's very body destroyed them. His wings, burning, pulled close to his body in some vain form of protection.

Then Roid felt it. The rip of skin. He slid down a number of inches as the Phoenix's chest gave way to the powerful incision he made with the right sai. Hot, warm blood splattered across Roid's face. It burned acid, but he fought through the pain and yanked the second sai down with him.

The Phoenix screeched and gave one mighty shudder. Roid's grip slackened and he went crashing to the ground, countless feet above it.

Blackness swarmed his vision as the brilliant sun, coupled with the brilliant Phoenix, burned his eyes. He heard rather than felt the crack of his bones as he hit the ground. He was too weak to move, too weak to suck in a breath.

The blackness covered everything.

_Rosalyn, you'd be proud of me, right?_ He thought the moment before he lost himself.

Jak and Keira stood side by side as they watched the Phoenix wither in pain, trying to find some way to relieve the suffering Roid had caused. They had both seen the Metal Head hit the ground, but the Phoenix had shot off a wave of pain and he had been lost in the fire.

"What are you going to do?" Keira asked her husband.

"Give me your hand," Jak said suddenly, turning to look at her hard in the eyes. "I need your hand, Keira."

"What, why?" Keira was already holding hers out and watching as Jak's hand, the palm glowing silvery, closed over hers.

"It's something I learned during the seventeen years apart," Jak told her, looking right into her eyes. "I want you to concentrate, summon what power you can into this hand. That's all."

"But, Jak—"

Keira had never been too keen on using her power. Sometimes it was just too massive. She had only used it during her battle with the goddess of Chaos, Eris. Even then she had held back, and they both knew it.

"I need to do this, Keira. Please." Even before he finished his sentence, Jak felt the flux of power suddenly flowing into his palm. "Your magick—the magick that immortals use—I found out that it's—it's… _Keira_, it's the ancestor to eco."

"Eco?" Keira stared at him, watching as his body began to take on an unearthly glow. It was a shade of white, but it seemed more otherworldly than Aithne's. It was tinted with blue and seemed to swarm with power.

"Not just eco." Jak dropped her hand suddenly, his whole arm started to glow completely white tinted with blue. "_Light_ Eco."

Before she could say another word, Jak's hand cupped her face. She felt the cool, watery feel of the power collected on his palm before she felt the slid of his lips against hers. She gasped against his mouth, leaning into him.

She tasted power on his lips. Wild, unbelievable power. But she sensed that it was controlled. It wasn't unbearable like Aithne's was. It was tight and controlled and carefully watched over.

"_Jak_," she murmured against his mouth, covering the hand he placed on her face. She wanted to keep him to her, lock him close. Never let him go again.

But he was already backing away. His eyes were locked with hers and he never looked away, not even as the glowing white light seeped up his arm and all over his body. Keira sucked in a breath of shock as his eyes turned eggshell white.

Then his whole body was white and his eyes didn't belong to Jak anymore, but someone completely different. It was like watching Dark Jak appear; only this creature was dispassionate and completely cold.

Wings sprouted out from the being's back, long tendrils that seemed to be gossamer spider webs. Keira wanted to reach out and touch them, to feel the cool, watery texture of them, but she couldn't move.

Jak's wings spread out and he lifted himself into the air. He was still looking at her, but Keira couldn't see Jak in his eyes anymore.

Keira knew that this was something different. Completely different from anything Jak had ever done before. And she knew its name. Without having to be told, she somehow knew its name.

This was Light Jak.

* * *

**Notes:** hopefully that was just a tab bit surprising to ya'll, right? I wanted to get either Light Jak or Dark Jak in there at the end, and since Dark Jak got to save the day in the prequel, I thought it was time for Light Jak to shine. Ha… pun.

**Act XXVI:** it's time for Light Jak to show us what he's made of. But is it enough to take down the Phoenix?

**reviews**

**Carree:** I'm glad you liked the long-awaited Jak/Keira reunion. I can't tell you how many times that had to be rewritten before I was satisfied with it. XD It was difficult not to make that over the top.

**Darkening Lightning:** yeah, Lokin really isn't on Jak's side, obviously. He's on his side. He's kinda like a "grey" area out of the good and bad guys. It's hard to tell just what his true motives are, but they will be revealed.

**Xazz:** this chapter had a lot of rush to it, too, but it was a lot grimmer to. And I hope Light Jak was awesome enough for you.

**Light-Eco-Sage:** bittersweet reunions win at life. As long as they're not happening to me.

**Quick:** sorry, I couldn't find a way to fit Dark Jak in there. Well, I couldn't figure out how to get both Light Jak and Dark Jak in the story. Plus, there's not like there's an abundance of light eco where they're fighting.

**jaklover123:** yes, that is exactly what the Goddess said. And everything, especially that and its affects, _will_ be explained before this story is over. As for happy endings, you'll just have to see!

**ChatterBox101:** no need to explain. I understand how life at get way when you least expect it. I'm just glad you're still reading. And we're almost to the finish line!


	26. To the Victor Goes

**Disclaimer:** disclaims

**Author's Notes:** I am so sorry for the sheer lateness of this, guys. I really have no excuse. Only technically difficulties and college can be added. But, on the bright side, this _is_ the last chapter before the epilogue. Wow, we are almost done. Can you believe it?

**warnings: **character deaths

* * *

**Act XXVI: To the Victor Goes **

_Light Jak…_

That was what Keira called it. Jak had whispered to her that her power—the power that was passed down to her through her Goddess bloodline—was the precursor to Light Eco. A primitive form of the powerful white eco that had seemed to vanish from the earth hundred of years ago.

He was glowing so brightly, and so powerfully, that for a moment she could barely breathe. It was almost as if Jak sucked up all forms of energy around him, leaving them all weak for oxygen.

"Jak," she breathed, daring only to take a step closer.

Jak was still staring at her and Keira realized that it wasn't exactly Jak. Jak was in there, somewhere, but this new form acted like Dark Jak. Another form of him, nearly a separate entity living inside him.

There was dim recognition in his eyes, but only dim. This new entity knew who Keira was, but only because it was a part of Jak. Not because it had a personal knowledge of Keira herself.

Beside her, Aithne roused. She blinked hard as the shining light from her father's wings touched her. Lifting a hand, she managed to force herself up into a sitting position. Cyren had one hand protectively locked around her shoulder as she stared up at the entity that had appeared before them.

"What…?" Aithne mumbled, staring up in disbelief.

"What happened to Roid?" Cyren whispered, well aware that no one would answer him. He had not taken his eyes off the Phoenix since Roid had rushed at it.

Fiery blood pooled onto the sand beneath the Phoenix's claws. It was like acid, burning up everything it touched. But the Phoenix, who had looked ready to ascend proudly to the heavens, was flapping lopsidedly.

It was weakened. Roid had done that.

Light Jak turned his glowing head away from Keira and looked at the Phoenix. All at once, the unearthly creature's intention became clear. Filmy, weightless wings spread out into the air, white light flooding the sand like rain.

"Jak!" Keira shouted, stumbling as she turned and ran back toward Sig.

The big man instantly tossed the Virgae-Mors sword. Keira caught it and cradled the handle in her two hands. It was heavy for her and she nearly sagged under the weight. But, even as she tripped once over her feet, she was moving back to Jak, kicking at the sand and the air.

"Jak, here!" With all the strength left in her weak arms, Keira tossed the sword. It didn't go very far, not even four feet, and Keira sunk to the sand in exhaustion, her breath heaving.

Jak swooped in and caught the handle with expertise, looking down at Keira without any emotion in his gaze. But somehow Keira sensed that Jak was looking out at her and she nodded to him, trying to reassure whatever part of Jak was still inside.

Then the glowing creature turned and began flying, racing across the sands toward the Phoenix as it attempted to fix the damage already done to its body.

When the massive bird saw Light Jak coming at him, and coming at him fast, it let loose a wild breath of fire. Light Jak dodged it easily, lifting himself higher into the air, above the reach of the flames.

Now, above the Phoenix, and only feet away, Light Jak picked out its mark. The crimson of blood was easy to find against the flames. Dark fire seemed to emit from the wound, boiling the acid blood before it even truly escaped it's body.

Course set, Light Jak raised his sword. The Virgae-Mors sword glowed nearly pure white, absorbing the fluxing power coming in and out of his body. The tip of the blade lowered and pointed directly at the target.

Without any warning, Light Jak pulled his wings close to his body. He went careening at the Phoenix in a hard beeline, the light emitting from his body acting as a barrier from the searing wind and fire the Phoenix threw out at him.

Fire surrounded Light Jak, burning his fragile, human skin. But the Light Eco, given and harnessed through his mate, healed him. With each burn he received, another was healed. What would have killed a normal human was merely an irritation to Light Jak. He healed himself too fast for the Phoenix to keep up.

He felt the resistance as the Virgae-Mors sword drove itself right into the Phoenix's core. Even hotter fire lapped at his wrists and hands. Jak would carry those scars for the rest of his life. The heat was too much for Light Jak to heal, even with such powerful eco flowing through him.

But that didn't stop him. Light Jak pressed his entire weight against the sword, lowering his head to dodge talons as the Phoenix swiped at him in panic, in fear.

_Heart…_ Light Jak knew he needed to reach the heart, the hottest part of the Phoenix, to truly defeat him. Even as the fire lapped at his elbows, he kept going.

_"What good will fighting do you?"_ a voice wondered inside Light Jak's head and he knew that it was the Mage, using the last bit of his telepathy to buy himself some time. _"What do you truly hope to accomplish?"_

Light Jak said nothing, just kept pushing forward, not even flinching as the fire ate at his arms.

_"I had been a head researcher,"_ the Mage said, his voice full of memories and wistfulness. _"In Sage-Harmona. It was my duty to design and manufacture the disease that would wipe out our enemies, the Desert Tribes."_

Venn's father had been a victim of the disease. A late, rarer form of it, but one that would not have been a threat if Sage-Harmona had left them alone.

_"How ironic was it that it was I who caught the first strain of my work?"_ The Mage's voice lifted into a laugh that held no humor. _"I died from the very thing that had become my life's work. I died from that disease."_

He was getting close. Light Jak could feel it. It was a pulsing power, a fiery controlling power. One that rippled across his skin and moved across his arms, right up into his face. If Light Jak had had such human emotions, he would have sucked in a breath, would have forced his body to fight against it.

But Light Jak was beyond such human trivialities. That was why he had been born.

_"I had died before Eris had risen up and slaughtered Sage-Harmona and all the others. I would not be brought back. I was enraged. I deserved to be alive as much as the next man, didn't I? More so."_ The Mage's voice had taken on an almost musing tone as he conversed easily with Light Jak. _"That was when I felt it, the Phoenix. The creature that had been created from the excess magick, the creature that had been born of our sins and indulgence and gluttony. We had given birth to this monster, we who used magick and allowed the leftovers to go unchecked. It had grown a mind of its own and it knew only the destruction of the race that had created it. It had been killed before its work had been finished. That was when it found me, a wandering soul in the afterlife."_

His sword cut through the hard tissues of breastbone and hot, acid blood burned his skin right to his bone. The Phoenix screamed in agony, withering and twisting, trying to shake Light Jak loose. But Light Jak would not be shaken.

_"It promised me life, so long as I gave my body over to his intention. I was desperate, ready to live, and angry that so many got another chance at life while I got none. So I agreed. It was easy with the Phoenix's power to trick the Goddess's own power to transport me back to the earth."_ For a moment, just a moment, the Mage almost had Light Jak. His voice was enthralling, filled with power. But he kept on going, had to keep on going.

_"But I wasn't ready for the Phoenix to gain hold of me, to use me for its purposes, just then. My death needed to be avenged, I needed to wipe out all those who had wronged me. The Yoshimoro family, the desert tribes, all those who got to be reborn. They needed to suffer first. So I picked up fools like Hirmoyarbeshi and studied the Dark Warrior Program implemented by Baron Praxis of Haven City. I stole desert tribe filth and tested it on them. Hirmoyarbeshi moved against the Yoshimoros—a massacre we now know their young son escaped from—and I made a startling discovery."_

The part of Light Jak was that was still Jak Mar shuddered, remembering. So it was Baron Praxis—the last monarch of Haven City—that gave birth to Sage-Harmona's Experiments? Yes, he could understand that. He had smelt it on them. Eco on the creatures the Mage and Hirmoyarbeshi had twisted to their purposes.

_"Eco is normally in a liquidized form. What Baron Praxis did in his Dark Warrior Program was pour liquidized Dark Eco into a body via their pours and other openings to the body. At first, I followed his example. But the experiments kept dying. That was when I decided I would turn Dark Eco into a gastric form and plant it directly into a subject's blood stream. Funny how Baron Praxis never though to take the time to make that discovery. It wouldn't have done any good for you, Jak Mar, as your body is naturally inclined to accept Eco no matter the form. But Praxis could have saved countless lives, and had himself an entire army, as I did. But I suppose things worked out for the best. After all, I wouldn't want to contend with a Baron and his unholy army._

_"The first subject survived the initial experiment. But she had been an adult and her body already had an immunity to the Eco. She died as her body attempted to expel the Dark Eco, which had by then completely taken over her bloodstream. Hirmoyarbeshi was the one to suggest a child, an infant, that would not have such a disposition to Eco. So I plucked an unborn baby from a desert tribeswoman's very womb and made the Girl, the first of a perfect breed of soldiers. She was almost perfect, she had been the start of something glorious. But as you can see, I should have paid more attention to that Girl. Her human instincts and emotions had not been fully subdued, even my magick could not completely rid her of them. But I was too focused on my duty, on what needed to be done. And so, Jak Mar, here we are. Do you honestly think you can succeed?"_

He didn't think. He knew. Victory was already singing through his blood. Light Jak pushed his sword straight through the organs that blocked his path. The Phoenix could heal and regenerate those organs. But he knew, had been told, there was one thing that would destroy the Phoenix completely.

Nyx and Nik and Crea, and their team, had done it long before, during Sage-Harmona's true reign. Jak had studied, and been told, and had seen exactly what needed to be done.

Now Light Jak would follow their example.

_"I belong in this world, Jak,"_ the voice whispered, and it was different. It wasn't the Mage. The subconscious of the old man had given way to something much more dark, and evil. This, Light Jak understood, was the Phoenix talking. _"I belong in this world for as long as humans exist. You created me and this world is mine as much as it is yours."_ Light Jak did not answer him and the Phoenix's voice almost became strained. _"You will accomplish nothing by doing this. Humans breed war and death. So long as they exist there will be more like me. Many more, and they will just bring more war and death."_

Jak Mar broke free of the cold ice Light Jak had encased him. His mind, for a fleeting moment, had control over Light Jak. His thoughts went out, and the Phoenix heard him.

_"Yeah, well, when they come, I'll be waiting for them."_

Even as Jak Mar faded back into the subconscious of Light Jak, the heat and power of the Phoenix's core radiated into their body. Light Jak twisted the Virgae-Mors sword in his hands, prying the hard tissue that protected the Phoenix's heart away from it.

_"No! No!"_ the Mage and the Phoenix's voice molded into one being, howling out in pain, withering as Light Jak's hand closed over the pounding organ. _"You can't do this to me! You can't!"_

The smell of burning flesh filled Light Jak's nostrils and he felt a sharp, intense pain as his skin was burned away. But the Light Eco given to him by Keira was already healing and nothing would stop him from completing his endeavor.

With all his might, his whole arm shaking in pain and power, he tightened his hands over the organ, his nails digging right down into the very tissue of the heart, and yanked his arm back with all his might.

A deafening scream of pain tore from the very deepest part of the Phoenix as it went soaring high into the sky, thousands upon thousands of feet above the earth.

But the damage was already done. Light Jak pushed away from the Phoenix, the bleeding heart burning away the skin on his wrists and hands. He allowed his body to freefall several feet before his wings whipped out to catch the air.

The Virgae-Mors sword went clattering to the earth, the Phoenix finally shaking it free. But it was too late for the Phoenix, it flew up in a glorious dying fire, its wings molting off its body in licks of flames. Heat pulsated all across the desert and everyone living felt the dying cry of the Phoenix.

Then it began to sink to the earth, the fire giving way to soot and ashes. A trail of smoke followed the giant bird down and ashes leapt from the body as it crashed into the sand. A dying keen rose up from the bird as it flapped lopsided wings.

A wall of fire blasted forth from its body. Light Jak took a long, twisting dive downward to avoid it. Heat blasted him in his face before it finally died down. Ashes seemed to rain from the sky, hardening as they hit the suddenly cool desert ground.

Light Jak released the heart he clenched in his fingers and sunk slowly to the earth. The Phoenix was dissolving, becoming ash, and the blazing fire of its power dissipated, leaving only a coolness.

"Jak!" Keira shouted as she watched his glowing body descend, like an angel. She kicked herself to her feet and began to run, tripping over the hard rocks that had been formed from the Phoenix's ashes. "Jak!"

The glowing foot of Light Jak touched the ground lightly, and then the second one joined it. Keira hurried over to him and watched as Light Jak stared down at the crater the Phoenix had made as its fiery body had crashed into the earth.

Suddenly, the light faded and the blue tint left his skin. And, within the blink of an eye, Jak Mar stood in place of his Light Eco counterpart. He was breathing hard, his shirt dark with his own sweat and blood.

"Keira…" he croaked and turned to her.

She gasped, looking down at the hideous scars that decorated his hands and arms. Part of his pants had been burned away by the fire as well and the skin was crisscrossed with burn scars. A long line of scar tissue was forming on his neck as well, from his collar bone right to the side of his chin.

Light Eco would prevent the fire from leaving permanent damage to his body, but the scars would remain.

"I'm so tired…" he muttered, not even glancing down at his hands. He was so drained it was likely he couldn't even feel the pain as the Light Eco attempted to heal him. "So—"

He didn't finish it and he crashed to the ground. Keira gave a yelp and leapt the remaining distance to him, her arms folding him close to her body. His weight brought them both to the ground, but Keira cradled his body against hers, murmuring comforting words into his hair.

On the battlefield everything had gone still. It was as if the Mage's destruction had sucked all the strength those still alive had to fight. The world was absurdly quiet, almost alarmingly so.

A great power had been ripped from the earth and for the first time, everything was silent.

Epsi Wind bent beside Kiff Fire's still, bloody body and touched her skull with his knuckles. He looked down into her face, her eyes already closed, and he sucked in a breath, his scaly chest, gleaming with blood, shaking.

"Roid?" he asked as he picked himself up. He looked toward the Phoenix's damage and then lowered his head. "Back. Back into the shadows."

The Metal Heads obeyed his command, gone before anyone could realize what was happening to them. Epsi cast one last look at the remains of the Phoenix, sucked in a breath, and followed his brethren.

Sala approached the remaining ranks of the Sage-Harmona army, Ashelin flanking her. Nyx and Nik were behind her, Nik supported on Nyx's shoulder. Though Nyx's face was impassive and unrevealing they both knew that Nik would walk with a limp forever.

Ashelin had a gun in her hand and she pointed it at the only general from Sage-Harmona that still breathed. Sala had her sword out and pointed at them.

"Surrender," she ordered, and knew that they already had. She glanced over at Nyx and Nik, her face unbearably tired.

Wordlessly, she turned and surveyed the battleground, looking at the many fallen soldiers, at the Metal Head carcasses, at the sheer destruction Hirmoyarbeshi and the Phoenix had caused.

Suddenly, she was so weak she almost couldn't move.

"Go get my son," she ordered, her heart heavy like a stone.

It hurt Aithne to move. She winced as Cyren shifted her in the circle of his arms. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire, white hot fire. Every now and then there were little black dots in her vision.

"What's going on?" she groaned, swallowing whatever salvia was in her mouth, trying to wet her aching, dry throat.

Cyren mumbled something unintelligent, his eyes on the spot where the Phoenix had disappeared. Aithne blinked and realized he hadn't even understood her question. She lifted her sore arm and griped his shirt.

"Cyren," she said as firmly as she could, but could only end it in a cough, hissing out in pain as her throat burned and brought tears to her eyes.

Her pain brought his attention to her instantly. He brought her closer to him and the warmth of his body soothed her, even though she felt like she was burning up. She wanted to see where her mother had run off to, what had become of Jak Mar, but her head was too heavy to lift from her shoulders.

"Help me," she asked him softly. "Help me up. I need to go see—"

"Aithne," Cyren interjected, concern creasing his brows. "I don't think you should move. You—you're still covered in blood."

"I'm fine," she lied and lifted both of her hands to his neck. "I need to see."

"Let me, let me," Cyren protested as she tried to force herself to her feet. He scooped her up in his sweaty arms and cradled her as gently as he could, turning and heading toward the crater.

Aithne gritted her teeth against the pain that ripped through her with every move Cyren made. She couldn't understand why she was so weakened. She couldn't remember what exactly had happened, her head was fuzzy and frayed along the edges. All she knew was that she was tired and every part of her hurt.

Jak was recovering already. The Light Eco flowing through his blood enabled him to bounce right back from his use of power. He stood on shaking legs, Keira at his side ready to catch him, and looked over at Aithne and Cyren as they approached.

"Are you—" Cyren began in earnest concern.

"Yes," Jak cut him off, looking down at his burned and scared hand. Something flashed in his eyes as he stared at the markings, but he said nothing of the feeling and carefully stroked the patch of skin that had been burned off. "I'm fine."

"How did you…?" Keira choked on her own confusion, frowning over at him as Jak struggled to regain his strength. "How did you know what to do? How did you know how to defeat it?"

Just as Jak was about to open his mouth another wave of power rushed over them. Jak nearly collapsed to his knees but Keira was faster than he was and had his arm in a death grip before he could hit the ground. Aithne moaned in pain and rolled her head into Cyren's chest.

"Why don't I answer that?" a new voice called and all heads that could hear it turned toward the crater left by the Phoenix.

A man stepped out from it. He was average, in everything. Average height, average build, average attractiveness. Yet there seemed to be an aura of power surrounding him, from the top of his brown head to his small, sturdy boots. His smile was enigmatic and his eyes were golden.

"Lokin," Jak hissed and answered everyone's unspoken question.

"Him!?" Keira demanded, stepping forward protectively in front of Jak, her eyes blazing. "This is the man who took you away?"

The god smiled, slowly, charmingly. "Now, now. Let's be nice." He strode over to them, a little spring in his step, his voice sounding as if he was talking to an annoyed pet. "After all, we're all winners here, aren't we?"

No one said anything to him. Cyren was too amazed, Aithne was too tired, Jak was glaring and so was Keira. Lokin shrugged as if he had expected their reaction—which he probably had—and continued to grin merrily.

"You look like her, you know," Lokin said, inclining his head toward Keira, circling her. One hand gripped his chin lightly as he eyed her, taking in her appearance. "My sister, your "Goddess".

Casually, as if Lokin sought to solidify the fact in his mind, he reached out and touched her cheek, platonically rubbing it, his eyes furrowing and his grin widening.

"She would have been proud of you. Of course, Gaeny was proud of all the tiny things you mortals managed to do on your own." Something flashed very briefly in Lokin's eyes, and was gone as if it had never been there. "She was an impossibly easy child to placate, until she got it into her silly head that she was in love. Fool girl, she should've listened to me when I told her no good would come of loving that knight."

Keira jerked her face away and Lokin's smile widened. He leaned toward her and Jak gave a warning snarl low in his throat. His fingers tightened on Keira's arms and he would have dragged her away if he had been strong enough.

"Relax, Jak," Lokin advised, lifting his hands in a sign of non-aggression, his smile still easy. "I mean your woman no harm."

"What do you want?" Jak managed, pressing a hand to his sore ribs, sucking a painful breath, as Lokin chuckled at him.

"To congratulate you, of course. You've done good, Jak. So good." Lokin's attention left Keira and zeroed in on Jak. "After the Goddess died—sacrificed herself, whatever—her dear siblings and relatives lost a lot of our powers. We didn't really have a say in the mortal realm anymore, we were pretty much locked away in the heavens, only looking, not playing."

"I already know that," Jak snapped, unable to stop himself from leaning down on Keira to support himself.

"Oh, Jak. Jak. _Jak_. I don't think I need to remind you that you've been gone for seventeen years?" Lokin gave him a cheeky chuckle when Jak bared his teeth. "They don't know the full story and I'm sure they've got some unanswered questions."

Cyren knelt down into the dirt, rolling Aithne as gently as he could so she could face Lokin. Blood had dried and caked around her face and she moaned softly, weakly rubbing at the irritation on her skin.

"Anyway," Lokin went on with a shake of his hand. "Where was I? The Phoenix was created by Sage-Harmona, you know. They tended to use too much magick for their own good and all that excess energy formed into a very unstable, semi-conscience entity. It was… for the most part… comatose, just collecting the leftover magick from Sage-Harmona, growing more and more powerful every day. But that wouldn't have been so bad… but then it started collecting emotions too. Hate and greed and rage from all those people who used magick. And so, suddenly, it was awake and it was _not_ a happy camper. Humans… when will you learn?"

"You came all the way here to tell us _that_?" Aithne demanded, forcing herself up into a sitting position.

"Well… yes." Lokin shrugged once at her, but kept his attention solely on Jak. "My sister, Morrigan, was in charge of watching over dead souls, and her main duty was to see to it that the Phoenix never wrought havoc on this world again. So when the Phoenix twisted around Gaeny's power she was in a real fix. Luckily for her—not me—I had an old debt to pay her and she requested that I take care of the Phoenix for her. Now, I didn't have any powers in this world, either, but did she care? No. Debt was debt. So I had to find some _human_ who could take down… well, a Phoenix."

The god approached Jak and picked up his left hand, touching the silvery mark that still glowed there. "The fact that the Phoenix had been created through dark magick, anger, hate and greed meant that, once it was back on earth, it was virtually indestructible. In order to beat the Phoenix, I needed someone to counteract that darkness. I needed Light Eco." Lokin paused and smiled right into his face. "And who better to handle Light Eco than the well known eco channeler Jak Mar? There were other candidates, of course, Aithne being a top one, but Jak Mar had something everyone else didn't. A tolerance for Dark Eco. You know by now that the ancient powers we gods use are the ancestors of the eco your kind uses today. Jak's tolerance for Dark Eco would protect him from the worst of the Phoenix once he managed to get close enough."

"And it took hi—Jak—seventeen _years_ to control Light Eco." Keira looked down and over at her husband, her eyes narrowed. "He's used it before."

"Ah, cousin, but you see, there was no Light Eco left. It had all been wiped out, destroyed, by years of destitute and hate." Lokin lifted his hand and it filled with light. "We had to… condition Jak's body to recognize the gods' power as Light Eco. Now that took some time. Intense training. We also had to do it in a setting already intoned with the flow of magick and eco. A precursor temple."

"That took years to find," Jak added, wincing, and gripping his ribs. "There weren't any left. There was only this one set of ruins half way around the world."

"There had to be deep meditation and conditioning of the body. The gods' power might have had a very close signature to that of Light Eco, but it still wasn't eco. Jak's body had to learn to absorb the power. Then after that, which took quite a while, Jak had to come all the way _back_." Lokin gave a small laugh and rolled his shoulders. "So seventeen years isn't bad considering all that he had to do."

Keira looked at him in disbelief and Lokin just shrugged. He walked past them and bent down beside Aithne, touching her forehead lightly. The blood covering her face disappeared.

"In the future I would advise against using your power at all, my dear," Lokin said with a small chuckle to Aithne. "Next time you get in your head to use it, you might not survive."

"What are you talking about?" Aithne demanded.

"Aithne's doesn't—doesn't have any of the power Jak has," Keira said tightly, her face growing pale with worry. "I took her to the doctors. I had her monitored. We know that she doesn't—"

"Your body rejects your power," Lokin cut in, still smiling. "See, you're a unique girl. You inherited both sides of your parents' powers. Keira's immortal ones and Jak's ability to channel and control eco… but less with the control. Now, normally, because Keira's power is wholly light and Jak has become predisposed to dark, you're power would have nullified itself. You would have been, just as your doctors think, without any form of power."

"Then why isn't she—" Jak started and Lokin gave a rumbling laugh, standing.

"Oh, Jak. _Duh_. You don't just control Dark Eco, do you? You've touched all forms from red, blue, green, yellow right on down to light. Your blood stream is a very coagulated breeding ground of eco. Dark Eco might be the most prominent, but you have all the other powers in there too and they all got passed on to your daughter." Lokin rubbed his shoulders, as if they were stiff. "So she basically had all forms of power in her body, the forms of Eco from you and an immortal's power from her mother. It created a massive, highly unstable, ball of energy inside her. One that frightens even me, I must admit."

"So because of my… earlier days Aithne… has this power?"

"Yes. Of course, human nature has a funny way of evening out these sorts of things." Lokin glanced at Aithne over his shoulder. "Your body has rejected the power, it's too massive for it to control, ever. So it has been locked away, in a place you can never touch unless you're under extreme emotional duress—a good example of which would be, as we've seen, war. The power you've been gifted with, my dear, tears apart a mortal's body. It's highly unstable and the constant raging of power tends to destroy one's body. That's why I don't suggest attempting to use it again. Next time you do, your body might truly decay and die."

"Don't worry," Aithne snapped at him, shivering. Cyren rubbed her arms absently, a worried look coming over his eyes.

Lokin stood suddenly, his head titled toward the sky. A smile curved his lips. "Ah, so my sister finally decides to call me back. Seems that my constant visits to this world have put a strain on our very _limited _power." He started to walk back from where he had come and patted Jak's shoulder absently. "See you around, Jak."

Wind blew up and the sands swirled around Lokin for a moment. He turned and grinned at them, waving, and then was gone.

"I certainly hope not," Jak muttered sourly and then collapsed completely against Keira.

"I'm alright," Aithne said, pushing herself weakly to her feet. Cyren was at her side, gripping her arm. "Really, I'm fine."

"Aithne," Cyren said as gently as he could, well aware that she was far from fine. The idea that she had so much power bothered her, he could see it in her eyes. It was almost as if she was afraid to draw in too deep a breath.

"We need to find Roid," she cut in. Quickly, before he could get another word in, Aithne began to hobble over to the remains of the Phoenix, nestled neatly in the crater.

"Mrs. Mar?" Cyren looked over at Keira as she jammed her shoulder against Jak's arm to keep him upright. "Do you need any help?"

"I've got it, Cyren," Keira said gently. She looked off to where Aithne was headed. "Go help my daughter find your friend."

Cyren nodded and hurried after Aithne, nearly tripping in his haste to reach her. She stopped once she reached the steep incline of the crater, looking down at the ashes that filled the hole like water.

"Help me down," she ordered and Cyren grabbed her arm, sliding her along the dirt to reach the very bottom of the crater.

Silently, they got to work. The heat the Phoenix had emitted as it had come crashing down to earth had hardened its own ashes into stone and Aithne and Cyren struggled slowly to lift each piece of stone, too work through all the ashes, calling out for Roid.

But Cyren already knew that Roid was gone. And Aithne probably knew it too, but she wouldn't give up until she had exhausted every nook and cranny.

"Aithne," he said, trying hard to remain calm and unaffected. But his heart was aching deep in his chest. All he could think was that he hadn't even said anything when Roid had scooped up Aithne's sais and dived headfirst to the Phoenix.

He should've—

"I didn't even… do anything," she said softly, her voice oddly distanced. "He took the sais and I—I _knew_ what he was going to do but I—I didn't do anything. I should've… should've stopped him…"

"There was nothing you could have done," he told her, also telling it to himself. He brought Aithne into a fierce embrace, her back pressed against his chest. "He was—he knew what he had to do. It was what he needed to do, Aithne."

"He can't be dead," she whispered, lowering her head to the arms he had wrapped around her chest. "How can he possibly be dead?"

Because he didn't know, he couldn't answer. Suddenly, looking at the charred ruins the Phoenix had left in its wake, Cyren didn't know anything anymore.

--&--

Sedet came out of the palace with a tense Nyx by his side. Nik had stayed behind with Sala, and then had gone off with his soldiers to check over their losses and name the dead.

Sala felt herself wince with every step Nik took. He tried to hide it, but they all knew that he was limping badly, and would limp for the rest of his life. He had taken a sword right through his tendons to protect her when her horse had collapsed from exhaustion.

But she couldn't think about Nik's injuries, not now. Not right now.

"Mommy!" Sedet raced from Nyx's side and right into Sala's opening arms. She scooped him up, despite his height, and she felt the comforting warmth of her son's head nestled against the underside of her breast.

Holding her son close, Sala felt the first onslaught of tears threaten her. She sucked in a deep breath, reminding herself that she was still the queen. She was not just a woman, not yet. There was still too much she had to do.

"My lady?" Nik hobbled over, ignoring Nyx's move to help him stand. He, instead, gripped her hand tight in his and looked right. "My lady there—I—please, come with me. You have to—"

She already knew and her sharp nod cut him off. Nik's eyes were dark and sad and so terribly heartbreaking. Sala's whole body shuddered as she struggled to control herself. As gently as she could, she placed Sedet back onto his feet.

"Mommy?" Sedet asked then, his eyes wide.

"I need you to come with me," she told him, her voice not harsh but not gentle. She couldn't be gentle, not when it felt like her entire being was being ripped to shreds. She lowered her head, took another deep breath, and looked back into her son's eyes.

He nodded and she gripped his hand, following Nik slowly as he led her to where she already knew she would end up. Somehow she had known.

The Holy City, on the orders of Nik, had rounded up the dead. Not harshly, but with such great tenderness it made the air soft. There was an aura of mourning surrounding the bodies. The countless people—from Holy City to Haven to Sage-Harmona—covered the blood that painted the sand, a black smudge among the white.

"Sala," Nik said, stopping and looking over at her. His face was tight with his restrained emotions. "He's over there. There's nothing we could do… the healers said…" Helplessly, she trailed off.

Sala's attention was drawn to Crea, who stood still like a stone, with an ashen face Venn by her side. The young man was gripping his arms, blood still rolling down between his fingers. He had a jagged cut across his eyebrow and his nose looked like it had been smashed in.

That wasn't why she stared. Crea was looking down at something, and Sala knew what it was in her heart. Sedet started trembling by her side, but said nothing as she led them both over to where Crea stood.

The young woman's face said everything she would not. Her eyes were torn, a storm of emotion and when she saw Sala and Sedet, she turned to mourn privately. Venn snapped into action and slowly brought her away from the carnage.

Sala was on her knees before she could even comprehend what was happening. Sedet started crying, big, soft tears. He pressed his hands into his eyes and vainly tried to muffle his sobs.

Gareth looked up at her, his chest shaking as he fought off the fatal wound that drained him of life. His entire lower torso was marred with blood, the stomach wound Hirmoyarbeshi had given him a parting, forever gift.

"Sal—Sal—" Gareth couldn't get his words out. He rasped once, his whole chest rattling with his gushing breath, and rolled onto his side to cough, blood splattered against his fingers.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Sedet's head hit Gareth's chest as he gripped his arms, as if his tiny boy fingers could keep Gareth tethered to the earth.

There was only dim recognition in Gareth's eyes as he looked at his son. A bloody finger was raised only for a second or two to touch Sedet's cheek. It dropped heavily back into the earth, where Sala picked it up and held it tight in hers.

Their eyes meet as Sala brought Sedet against her side, keeping her hand holding Gareth. She couldn't manage to smile for him, but Gareth smiled all the same. He looked over at his son, who sobbed softly against his arm, and Gareth's own eyes filled with moisture. His face contorted as the first tears began to fall and Sala had to look away to keep herself from crying.

"I'm sorr—"

"Don't be, my love," she told him as strong as she could, her fingers tightening over his. "I'm so proud of you."

Then Gareth's eyes dimmed and pain overtook him. He rolled his head away, his whole body shaking again.

And she held him, held her husband and her son, until she felt Gareth still.

Her throat was dry and aching as she released Gareth's hand and stood, Sedet sobbing in her arms. Her spine was stiff as she turned away from him.

Just as she stood Jak, Keira, Aithne, and Cyren made their way over to them. Jak was unconscious and slumped against Keira. Aithne looked just as weak as her father, but she stood on her own two feet.

All looked as weary as Sala's heart felt.

Keira sucked in a breath as she noticed Gareth. Her eyes were wet within a second. "Sala, I'm so sorry," she managed, her voice strained from using her power and for surviving all that she had.

"Don't be," she said and they were both surprised at how strong her voice could be. "He died for a reason. A purpose. He died with honor. I—he—he was a brave man. And he—he will be remembered."

Because there was nothing else to say, Keira shouldered Jak once more and began to make her way back to the Holy City.

For a long moment, Sala stood staring out into the sands tainted red, Sedet's little hand caught in her own.

"Cyren," Tage said as he moved from his silent vigil over the dead soldiers. His leg wound had been healed and there seemed to be no permanent damage to his person save for one crooked scar across his neck. "Cyren, the people need you."

For a moment, he didn't understand. Then Tage motioned to Cyren's right and he turned, looking at the people from Sage-Harmona who had fought for him, and the survivors of Hirmoyarbeshi's army.

Yes, they did need him. He was Cyren Yoshimoro. He was their leader.

Annityn materialized at his side without any fanfare. He blinked in surprise at her as Annityn glanced over at him, once.

"You are not king yet," she pointed out.

Nodding, Cyren moved over to his people. The civilians looked up at him and the soldiers looked away. There was a rift between them, those from Sage-Harmona, and Cyren knew that it would take years and years for him to ever mend the gap that had been created.

"I am—" he stopped himself and drew in a steadying breath. Then he lifted his head high and went on, "I am Cyren Yoshimoro and I have come to claim what is rightfully mine."

It was a while before the statement set in, before the truth became apparent. But then the clamor rose up. The citizens who had abandoned their homes and risked their lives to fight for him. Their cry of victory rose into the sky.

Despite the dead and the sacrifices, they had still won and this moment of celebration was something they deserved.

Aithne watched Cyren as he was swarmed by his people, Tage and Annityn by his side, protecting him. Her face was tight and her eyes were dusty and dry. She felt her whole body trembling as she watched Cyren disappear from her view.

Unable to watch anymore, she turned and walked away. Keira was only a few feet ahead of her and she stumbled as Jak's weight became a little too much.

Without thinking about it, Aithne rushed forward and grabbed one of Jak's arms, helping her mother to shoulder the burden of his weight. Keira blinked over at her daughter in surprise, but said nothing as Aithne helped her take Jak to the Holy City.

--&--

Night fell faster than anyone would have guessed it would. But time had flowed so much quicker than it had the day before. There had been so much to do. Bodies to embalm, Sage-Harmona soldiers to store and guard, and the wounded to tend to.

Aithne had helped Keira get Jak to the medical bay, ignoring the scars and burns on Jak's body. Then she had purposely lost track of them both and had wandered around. She met Crea and Venn as they went into their room as the sun set, near passing out. Nyx had taken Nik to medicinal bay as well, along with Torn and Ashelin.

Sig had kept Aithne company for a few hours, looking as if he just needed to have some connection to something. And because Aithne had needed it too she had stuck close to her grandfather. Sig went to check on Keira and Jak afterwards and Aithne found herself to be all alone.

The Sage-Harmona citizens were welcomed into the city as heroes and had been given quarters within the Holy City. There were tiny sparks of animosity for what Sage-Harmona had done, but everyone was too tired to do anything about it now.

She wandered the halls of the palace, feeling empty and dejected, a ship without a sail. She didn't know what to do or what to think. So many people had been lost. So many friends and allies had died.

Maelia and Ryu were nowhere to be seen and Aithne refused to think about it any further than the fact that she could not see them directly in front of her. It felt like one good gust of wind would blow her over and she refused to allow it to be her own doing.

_They're fine. Everyone's fine…_

Night was colder than normal but Aithne stepped out into the gardens away. The chill that worked up her spine was welcomed. She had felt so hot and stuffy in the palace. A chance to escape it was like heaven.

It wasn't until she had all but crashed into Annityn did Aithne notice her. She blinked in confusion as Annityn turned and raised an eyebrow, her arms still crossed over her chest, her eyes still unreadable.

Then Aithne became aware of Cyren, seated just in front of them on the bench. Annityn, of course, had been keeping a silent vigil over him. He was so deep in thought that he had remained unaware of Aithne's arrival.

As she looked onto is silvery head, glowing even paler in the moonlight, Aithne felt her heart ache. It had been aching all day—ever since they had failed to find Roid—and she felt like she would collapse from sheer misery.

Annityn looked at Aithne, asking her what she wanted, and Aithne just nodded to her. But Annityn understood and cast one last look toward Cyren, before backing into the shadows.

Aithne stood where she was, looking at Cyren, until she felt Annityn leave them completely. Then she took in a deep breath and approached him, trying to remain as silent as she could.

"I—I won't ask you to come with me," Cyren said suddenly, making Aithne jump. She hadn't been as quiet as she thought. "I want to—but I won't."

"It's—it's good that you don't," Aithne said softly as she seated herself beside him, her throat constricting. "Because I would say yes."

And they both knew that they couldn't. Aithne's place was not in Sage-Harmona and Cyren's was. To ignore those facts would be selfish and childish and both Cyren and Aithne had cast aside that part of their life.

But it was still bitter and it still made Aithne want to shriek.

"How are you?" he asked and for the first time in their life, they were awkward around one another. They had everything to say, and no way to say it. "With—with your power?"

"I don't want it," she whispered brokenly, turning her head away when Cyren moved to face her. "Not because it's from Jak… but because I—I just don't want it."

"I understand," he said gently and she fought back tears as his hand closed over hers. "Aithne—I—we—the funeral rites are tomorrow."

"I know." Aithne kept her face turning, her heart aching from the loss she already had—_Roid_—and the loss she would face soon enough—_Cyren_.

"After… afterward we're going to go back. To Sage-Harmona." Cyren bowed his head, dipping it right down into his chest, his shoulders shaking. "We—I—think it's best. We've got so much we have to do. So much we have to fix…"

Tears ran down Aithne's face but she said nothing. She knew what lot they had been cast and she was so tired of fighting everything around her. Helplessly she leaned into Cyren, tightening her hold on his hand, and dipped her head onto his shoulder.

Cyren brushed a kiss across her hair as she began to cry.

--&--

Keira entered the room she and Jak shared after she had seen to Sala. There hadn't been a whole lot she could have done for her and Keira felt so helpless and lost she had eagerly allowed Nyx to take over once Nik had been deposited in the medical bay.

Jak had left after only a few minutes of being in the medical bay. They had both known that he was not physically damaged—he was just scared—and Jak hadn't wished to take a space in the medical ward when there was a soldier who _really_ needed it.

"Jak?" she called softly. Jak had turned off all the lights in their room, so only the pale moonlight worked as a light for the room, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He was sitting in a chair he had propped up against the balcony doors, his hands in his lap. The silvery light made the burn scars marring his hands seem especially grotesque and the patch of skin on his neck seemed to be so oddly discolored from the rest of him.

There was something in his eyes that Keira didn't like as he traced the lines of the scars. She hurried over to him and quickly covered his hands with hers, forcing him to raise his eyes and meet hers.

"Jak," she said again. When he said nothing she plopped herself right into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jak's hands shifted to grip her waist and it made Keira's distress ease.

"It can't go back, can it?" he asked, looking at the way his horribly puckered skin clashed with the pale skin barred on her hips. "To what it was before?"

Wordlessly, she pressed her mouth to his, holding his tight against hers, trying to understand him. After seventeen years they were together again, but they were so different from the eager young couple they had been.

"We'll figure something out," she promised him gently, rubbing her knuckles against his jaw.

Nodding, accepting, Jak brought her mouth back down to his, cupping her cheek firmly. He winced slightly as his scars rubbed against Keira's smooth skin, but she held him where he was and wouldn't let him think about it.

They would figure something out.

--&--

Annityn sat in a small chair she had propped up against the wall just outside the medical bay. The moans of the wounded and the dying filled the air. The battle might have been over but the suffering was not.

Soldiers filled the hallway with her. Not everyone had been able to fit into the bay and less seriously wounded soldiers filled the hallways, stretched out on makeshift cots. Nik had left the ward not long ago, hobbling the whole time but looking determined to do it on his own. Sala had breezed in with Sedet, had herself looked over, and quickly left. Jak had been in as well, but not for long. Torn was still in there, with Ashelin and Ryu by his side, as one of the Mages went about setting his broken leg.

Tage had come in as well, carrying an unconscious Maelia. Though Annityn had not inquired of her, he had told her that the girl suffered from a small concussion and nothing else. Then, he too, had left.

With nothing to do, and no real help to offer, Annityn rested the back of her head against the cool wall, her hand slung across her lap. Aithne had asked her to let her and Cyren have private words and Annityn had almost refused.

Never before had she felt so useless. Never before had she _felt_. She was a body trained and made for killing, but the blood and death was over and she was purposeless. She felt lost and confused, lost because she _was_ purposeless and confused because she was not supposed to feel at all.

The Mage had been correct, with the elimination of his power, the things that had subdued her humanity were returning. Slowly, but surely, and Annityn wanted to fight them off. She was not programmed to deal with it.

_Programmed… like a machine…_ she stood and walked away from the hospital, ignoring the soft groans of pain from those injured.

But she still had Dark Eco in her blood, did she not? That was why she had not needed to be treated for her shoulder wound. But the time Tess had reached her she had already healed herself.

General Tage Yao wasn't speaking to her. Save when he had stormed in with an unconscious Maelia—and a worried Ryu—he had not said a word to her. He had been enraged with her when she had taken the blow meant for Cyren and she did not understand why. It was both their duties to protect Cyren from all harm.

Not sure where she was going—even though she had the blueprints of the palace memorized in her mind—she wandered the empty halls of the Holy City. Most of the battlefield had been cleaned up and the funerals would be held tomorrow. Everyone else was merely too tired to do anything but sleep.

She felt halfway tired, but not enough to close her eyes and sleep in the small room she had been given.

Her feet were silent as she strode across the marble floor. She entered the very back of the palace, where few citizens dared to travel—it was the royal chambers—and caught the side of their two bodies, framed by the moonlight coming in from the large bay windows that acted as the hall's walls.

It was Queen Sala of Rye, her head buried in the arms of her general Nyx Urban Mandrake, her eyes staring blankly out the window. General Mandrake was stroking the older woman's hair, murmuring into her matted locks, as Lady Sala's hands tightened on General Mandrake's arms.

They were just two women, framed by milky light. Sala's dark hair, and Nyx's light hair, made them appear unbearably young and they seemed almost unmovable in their grief.

"He's—he's dead," was all Lady Sala said as she stared out into the darkness, her voice strained and distant, and Nyx pressed a shaking kiss onto Sala's head.

The Queen was not crying.

Something strange tightened in Annityn's grip and she was leaving before she could even comprehend what she was doing. Her feet were taking her somewhere and she did not have the energy to try to see where.

_Lord Gareth is dead,_ Annityn thought as she came out into the fresh air of the garden. _But the queen is not crying. Maybe she cannot cry. Statistics show that rare occurrences may happen in which a person is unable to cry despite overwhelming amounts of grief… the Lady Sala may also be refusing to cry for it is often considered in society improper for a ruling noble to cry over a death due to…_

_…Roid…_

Annityn dropped herself to her knees. She had walked to the very end of the garden, where the high walls of the Holy City protected it. The green had died away to show cold concrete and a shiver worked its way up Annityn's body.

_Cold. Caused by the slowing of air molecules and weather fronts that seasonally change course and direction, affected by the tides which are in turn affected by the sun and the moon—I am cold._

Blankly she stayed where she had fallen, her knees pressed into the hard, unforgiving concrete, her hands splayed across it for balance, her hair curtaining around her face. For some reason she was panting.

"You alright?" a voice asked and Annityn glanced up as Tage approached her, his face unreadable. There was a small spark inside Annityn—one she recognized as _surprise_—that she could not read him, because she had always been able to.

"I am… quite well, General Yao," she told him as she climbed to her feet.

"Tage, damnit," he muttered under his breath and looked away from her. Then he looked back at her and his eyes widened. "Are you—are you _crying_!?"

She blinked at him and lifted a hand to her cheeks. Wetness rolled down her fingers and fell to the floor. Her mind understood that it was tears—the expelling of salt water through the pours in the eyes—but she didn't understand _why_ she was crying.

"Yes," she answered neutrally, lowering her hand.

"I'm sorry, about Roid," he told her and she had no answer for him. He bit his lip in anger before continuing, "What will you do now?"

"What?"

Tage approached her and drew down her shirt—Annityn had taken off her armor earlier—and touched the _C_ carved into her skin. His fingers were amazingly hot against her cool skin.

"Your debt has been paid. The spell is broken. Even _I_ can tell that." Tage looked at her and then quickly looked away, dropping his hand. "So what are you going to do?"

The honest truth was that she hadn't thought about it and she realized just how completely without direction she was in that moment. She stared off into the distance, her eyes staring at the nothingness.

"I do not know," she admitted softly, not looking at him, her fingers curling against the scar on her collarbone. "I do not know."

Annityn had no course, and no direction. She was free floating and Annityn was not sure what to do with herself. She had never gone a day without having duties, without an order, and she felt lost knowing that now she had nothing.

The heat of Tage's palm just an inch away from her cheek had her eyes coming back to him. She stared at him, her face not giving away a single thought, and she watched him. His fingertips were mere inches away from her face.

He dropped them in disgust. "You'll have to decide," he said.

And he left her standing there.

--&--

Nyx was more exhausted then she had ever been in her life. And it wasn't because her body was tired. Her soul was aching, right down to its center. Nik had passed out from the pain his leg had given him in their bedroom, with Merasaki asleep against his side. And Sala…

Goddess, Sala. Could so much grief be contained in one woman?

It hurt too much to think about it and all Nyx wanted to do was go to sleep. But, instead, she found herself entering her sister's bedchamber, a small light burning in the corner. Crea was standing in front of her bed, packing what meager belongings she had brought back to the Holy City, into a small rucksack.

"You're leaving," she guessed and Crea turned to face her, the eyes that had once been so open and clear to Nyx now hidden and guarded.

"Yes," she answered deeply, turning back to her packing. But they both knew she was already done. She just didn't want to look at Nyx. "My home… is with Venn and he needs to find his people. They need him."

"I know," Nyx asked and stepped cautiously closer to her sister, not quite sure if she wanted to touch the young girl or not. There was such a rift between them and Nyx knew there was no real way to bridge it. "That's why I'm not asking you to stay."

"I—I won't stay away," Crea said softly, her fingers tightening around her rucksack. "Not like I did last time. I promise."

"That's good," Nyx returned and encircled Crea in her arms. They held each other for a long while, Nyx trying to remember what it had been like before. "Merasaki's become fond of you. I don't want you to miss out… on her growing up."

"I won't," she promised and they broke away. Nyx touched her face once and then backed away, keeping her in her vision.

"Goodbye, Crea," Nyx whispered and then, because her heart burned so badly, she went to find her husband and her daughter and comfort herself with them.

Just as Nyx left, Venn walked in. He watched Crea's sister leave and then looked back at the younger woman lower her head and go back to her packing, her shoulders stiff and straight and so terribly sad.

"You don't have to leave, Crea," he pointed out softly, coming over to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "You can stay."

"No. I'm not—I'm not the person who Nyx wants me to be. I—I can't." She inhaled a shaking breath and turned into his arms. "And I want… want to go with you. And be with you. I love you, Venn."

"It's over," he told her gently, pressing his mouth down into hers and holding her as she shook with gentle, silent sobs.

--&--

Funerals usually took place several days after a person's death, but Sala had set everyone out the very next day to collect bodies and prepare them for their rites. Everyone was tired of war and death and the closure needed to come fast and soon.

So, by the time the sun began to set, the bodies were ready for their funerals. There were too many to bury and Sala had decreed that pyres would be built right on the battlefield where their lives had been taken.

The misery that rose up in the air was almost too much to bear. So many people wept, from surviving soldier to widowed woman or man orphaned child. War had cost them all so much and had taken so much from everyone that it was almost as if they would drown in their feelings of loss.

Aithne stood at the back of the large crowd that had gathered to pay their final respects to the men who died the day before. Even Sage-Harmona soldiers were mourned, because in the end they had just been men following orders.

Maelia and Ryu had gone to stand with their families and Aithne admitted to herself they really had nothing to say to one another. But she had been pleased to see they were alright. There had been no wounds there and they had hugged and cried over the fact they all remained unharmed.

Ryu now stood with his father and mother, ready to support Torn should his broken leg give him any trouble. Jak and Keira were beside them, but Aithne hadn't wished to stand with them—and it had nothing to do with Jak. Daxter, Tess, and Maelia were near the front as well, Maelia's eyes reassuringly meeting with Ryu's.

The list was read. Lists of names of the soldiers who had died defending their beliefs. Not the Sage-Harmona soldiers because no one knew who had died, but they were given respect as well during the procession.

Gareth's name came last and Sala's face was so unmovable when she said her husband's name that Aithne felt like crying for no reason. She hadn't know Gareth personally, hadn't been able to pick him out of a crowd, but this woman had lost a husband and the tiny child, pale and quiet by her side, had lost a father.

They had won the battle, had claimed victory and beat back yet another wave of evil, but the cost was so great it almost wasn't worth it. Women were made widows and children were made orphans and there was sadness for every spurt of happiness that rose up.

As the funeral pyres were lit, Sala withdrew another list from her mourning robe. Nyx, flanking her right side with Nik and Merasaki, took the list containing the human names from her and handed it to her daughter.

Dutifully, Merasaki walked towards the burning embers and tossed the names into the flames, the sparks rising up into the darkening air.

Then Sala began reading off Metal Head names. What ones they had known and she apologized to the creatures who had been for years their enemies, even though they could not hear her nor accept her apology.

Kiff Fire was the first name that had been mentioned. Aithne knew Jak was the one who had supplied her with it. And several others had been given, ones that Annityn had picked up from Roid…

…and Roid. When his name was read, Aithne turned into Cyren's arms to hide her tears. Cyren, who had not left her side since they had come down to the funeral, held her tightly, mourning for their friend himself.

"They had been warriors and allies," Sala concluded, her face tight and without any sign of tears. "All of them. Gods in the heavens, please, I—we send you strong souls. Watch over them for us."

"Watch over them," Sedet intoned by her side, tears running down his face. His father had been shrouded in a dark cloak, but the boy easily knew which body burning on the pyre was his father's.

_Roid. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

Aithne had known how dangerous the war would be, how many people would die, and yet she hadn't expected so much loss to hit her so fast and so hard. And those who had died… she had never wanted them too. Thinking about war, accepting it, was so different from living it through.

Cyren came close to tears when Sala offered up prayers for his family and Zen-Fai Yao. She looked right at him as she said that they had spent too long a time going without being mourned and Cyren had to look away to keep his face dry like hers was.

Then it was over and Sala was approaching them, moving through the crowds of people who went on to mourn privately. Cyren and Aithne approached, Aithne looking away and Cyren looking right at her.

"Thank you," Cyren managed thickly. "Thank you."

Softly, Sala reached out and touched his forehead. "I respected both your parents and I pray that Sage-Harmona will blossom under your rule."

"I couldn't have—" he broke off quickly and struggled for a moment to regain himself. "I couldn't have done it without General Tage Yao and An—" he stopped himself when he remembered that Annityn had not had a choice. "And Roid. They were the finest allies I could have asked for."

Sala merely nodded to him and Cyren could see how impossibly tired she was. He allowed her to pass him and watched as she found her son and made her way back to her generals, Nik and Nyx, a lonely widow.

He touched Aithne's hand lightly and she nodded, letting him go as well. He approached the platform where Sala had stood and ascended it, approaching Ashelin and Torn as they both watched the mourners.

"May I say something?" he asked Ashelin as he nodded to Ryu, who lifted his head in greeting. It surprised him, how only a few weeks ago they had both been just normal boys, not quite men.

And now they were completely different.

"Of course," Ashelin answered and smiled at him softly. "I wish you the best of luck."

Taking a deep breath he stepped right into the center of the stage and all eyes were brought to him. He closed his hand into a fist and then took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he needed—as the future ruler of Sage-Harmona—to say.

"I'm—I am Cyren Yoshimoro," he began slowly, careful to keep his voice strong and firm. "And I would… I would offer my condolences for what Sage-Harmona has done to you. It will… it will scar us forever… and I'm sorry for what men do in their greed and lust for power…"

His eyes meet with Aithne's over the crowd as they stared at him. She managed a shaky smile and they both knew that this was _it_. This was the last time they would see each other. If they tried to gain a few moments with one another they would destroy each other. The ripping from separation would be too great.

Cyren wanted to call out to her, to say he loved her and that he never wanted to go a single day without her. But he knew that it would have to remain quiet and unsaid in his breast. He was now the heir apparent of Sage-Harmona and he couldn't cling to the things he wanted.

_Goodbye, Aithne_, he thought and he turned away, walking off the stage and back toward the palace. Annityn and Tage flanked him quickly, but he said nothing to either of them as he walked away without looking back.

Aithne had seen the goodbye as well and she forced herself to accept it, even if she didn't want to say goodbye yet. She had thought—foolishly—that they would have had a few more moments. But it was over and they were done.

When Keira and Jak approached, Aithne threw herself into her mother's arms, gripping her tighter than she had ever before. Keira stroked her head softly, understandingly, and Jak stood tall in front of them, shielding them, and looked to where Cyren had walked off.

Nik excused himself from Sala, Sedet, Merasaki, and Nyx as Crea approached Sala. Venn was hovering by the side, watching Crea give out her final farewells.

"So you're going with Cyren and his soldiers?"

"Just halfway," Venn answered with a small nod. "My people are in Donna-Rune and it's in the direction the Sage-Harmona brood is heading in. I figured that it be safest for me and Crea to travel with them for part of the way."

"Crea's my sister-in-law," Nik told him, and touched his shoulder lightly. "I don't want to find out you've hurt her."

"I'm not going to hurt her," Venn answered and looked at Crea as she approached him, their eyes meeting and clashing and Nik nodded in satisfaction.

He nodded once to Crea and then went to go stand beside Sala, now the sole ruler of the Holy City. As they started walking away, he reached out and took Nyx's hand. She looked over at him and nodded.

Wincing from the pain in his leg, Nik walked back home.

--&--

Two weeks later, Cyren was on his way to becoming king of Sage-Harmona. He, Tage, and everyone else from Sage-Harmona had left with the sun, under Cyren's insistence. He just hadn't been able to stomach the thought of being so close to Aithne and being unable to touch her.

Planning was something that needed to be done and took up most of his time. His coronation was put on hold because Sage-Harmona's reconstruction required most of his attention. Hirmoyarbeshi had left most of the houses surrounding the palace in disarray and Cyren and Tage went over their budget and did their best to find a way to slowly begin to heal the wounds that had scared their city.

They also had to set up a council of advisors—Tage had told Cyren that every ruler of Sage-Harmona, save Hirmoyarbeshi who had only relied on the Mage, had one—and Cyren had to rely heavily on Tage to help him decide on which men and women would work best for his council.

Even then there was the dangerous, and disturbing, process of going through Hirmoyarbeshi and the Mage's personal belongings. Annityn had informed them that both Hirmoyarbeshi and the Mage had kept hidden rooms deep under the palace to perform their hideous Experiments.

And, of course, they still had to deal with the Experiments themselves. Those that had survived Aithne's burst of power had escaped to the desert and news was slowly trickling in that they were aggressive and would attack anyone who came near them or happened in their path.

Venn had sent word out to the many desert tribes he had connections with that they were stay away from areas where the Experiments had been sighted, but Cyren knew it was a problem they were going to have to deal with sooner or later.

"I don't know how we're going to deal with all of this," he muttered sourly.

"Relax," Tage advised, shifting through his own heavy set of papers. "I'm with you every step of the way."

They were sitting in a small room only a few halls down from his bedroom in the Sage-Harmona palace. There was a small, dim light on the center of the desk that rested between them. Countless amounts of papers and reports had been stuffed into the room and Cyren's eyes were strained from reading so much.

But having so much work was better than having none, or too little work. Cyren's mind tended to stray to thoughts that caused him too much pain. He was nearly a king now—people had taken to referring to him as their 'Lord Prince Cyren'—and he had come to understand that being king meant sacrificing.

He had to admit that, even as his soul yearned for what he had lost, this was where he needed to be. More than that, this was where he _wanted_ to be.

_Aithne…_

Shaking his head, Cyren lifted his tired head from his papers and looked around the small room. He blinked when he saw nothing in the small, darkening corner of their room.

"Where's Annityn?"

Tage shrugged his broad shoulders. "Who knows? It's not like we really have a say about what she does anymore, Lord Cyren. And it's not like she's an actual citizen of the city…" As he was prone to do whenever Annityn was mentioned, Tage frowned.

It was true. Annityn had followed him and Tage back to Sage-Harmona but she was a tender subject. Her duty had been performed and she was a free woman. Cyren wasn't sure why she continued to stand by him and he didn't know how to ask her.

"What is it?" Cyren asked as Tage's scowl deepened.

"Do you think it's wise to allow her to remain here?" he asked and Cyren had grown used to his blunt honesty enough to know he meant no offense. "She… unsettles many of the people, Lord Cyren."

Cyren had also spent enough time with Tage to understand that Annityn affected _him_ more than anyone else. Tage had eagerly accepted Cyren's request for him to become the commander-in-chief of his army, which Cyren prayed reverently they would not need, and Cyren was accepting that Tage was not only a calming voice of reason in his whirlwind claim to power, but also a good friend.

And Annityn was his friend too.

"This is her home, too, Tage," Cyren pointed out and frowned. He dreaded what information would come to light soon enough. Because Annityn had already told him that Hirmoyarbeshi had kept records of all the advancements he had made in Baron Praxis's Dark Warrior Program, Cyren knew that they would both find out some rather disturbing things about Annityn, about _what_ had been done to her.

"Yes, I know that," Tage agreed, sounding sour. "But still…"

"Whatever she chooses, I'll stand by her." Cyren went back to his papers and added under his breath, "I think she's more lost than anyone else, Tage."

Because Tage was inclined to agree, he said nothing.

--&--

Annityn knew Sage-Harmona like the back of her hand. It was merely because the blueprints had been imprinted into her mind via the Mage's power, but she had long ago decided not to give much thought to it.

She rested along the smooth, flat stones of a Sage-Harmona house just outside the palace. She knew that Cyren and Tage Yao were both up, but for some reason she hadn't felt like remaining near them.

It wasn't because she had any firm distaste for them—Annityn wasn't sure she 'distasted' anything; even though she understood the emotion—she had just felt so unnecessary that she had had to leave.

For as long as she could remember, she had always had a purpose and a cause. Now she was listless, without direction. She thought that what she felt now was called 'lost' but she couldn't be sure.

Not for the first time, she wished someone would tell her what to do. But she supposed that was the point of being free. No one was to tell her what to do. And the idea of being her own master did not displease her, but the idea that she was completely alone did—surprisingly.

Suddenly she tensed and whirled around, her daggers in her hands and her body braced at the ready. After a moment, she threw the dagger with expertise into the shadows. Then she settled back down and waited.

Roid had her dagger in one of his claws and he handed it to her as he joined her on the rooftop. They said nothing for a moment when suddenly Roid lifted his other hand and revealed Aithne's sais.

"Will you give these back to her for me?" he asked and said nothing more, already knowing that she would.

"Everyone thinks that you are dead," she pointed out casually. Roid merely glanced over at her calmly. "So you lead the Metal Heads now."

All he could do was nod. "Unlike Cyren, I do not believe that Metal Heads and humans are truly ready to coexist peacefully together. So we're moving, far away. But if… if Cyren knew that I was alive he would expect me to support his ideals. And I would out of my… promise and my affection for Cyren, I would. But I know that is not what is best."

"I understand," Annityn agreed softly. "But why did you inform me of this decision?"

"I suppose that I needed to let someone know I wasn't dead." Roid looked down at his talons and then stood. "I just thought that you'd be the one able to keep it quiet… and I wanted to see Cyren one last time."

Not a word was exchanged between them. Roid sighed and looked up into the inky blackness of the sky. Annityn wondered what he thought about, and then realized that she had never before wondered what had gone on in a mind.

It was such a strange thing, human emotions. She wasn't quite sure yet what to do with them, but she was almost positive she was pleased to have them.

"Perhaps in time, I will return and tell Cyren everything. He'll be angry, no doubt, but he'll understand. It's his nature." Roid touched her wrist and the contact was warm but fleeting. "I would stay and support Cyren, but no matter how much the world has changed now, Metal Heads and humans can still not coexist with any harmony."

Annityn realized with a slight blink that he was looking for her opinion. She said, staring out in the darkness, "You assumption is the correct one. Prejudice will not fade between the races and for them to live together now, it would only cause another war. Perhaps, in many years, there is a 56.4 percent possibility that…"

When she trailed, no longer able to stand her voice being so cold and methodically, Roid released her wrist. "Then, we shall both hope that the day will come when we see each other again. Until then, Annityn, I trust you to find peace and happiness for yourself."

She looked over at him as Roid prepared to slip back into the darkness. She gripped Aithne's sais, charred from the Phoenix's powers but otherwise unharmed, and watched as he nearly disappeared.

"Roid?" she called and she felt his presence remain. "Please allow me to accompany you." She could feel his eyes upon her, even though he could not see her. "I do not know what I would do, but I think I would be able to help you."

And, suddenly, she didn't want him to leave.

Wordlessly, Roid crouched by her once more. She felt the cool touch his claw against her cheek. "I wish that I could say yes because your presence would comfort me. We understand each other, Annityn. But you as well as I know that that is not what is best. Your place is here with Cyren."

"I have no place," she told him. Not bitterly or sourly or sadly. She was merely stating her facts.

"You do. You'll see." Roid bent down and touched his glowing skull to her hair dark hair. "Take care of yourself, youngling. This is our chance to start over."

Then he was gone. Annityn stared into the darkness until she felt completely alone. Then slowly, with Aithne's sais in her hand, she descended the rooftop and made her way into the palace.

_"Your place is here with Cyren."_ Perhaps.

Cyren had retired to bed when she entered the small, cramped room where Tage and the future king had been going over the latest reports of the day. Now only Tage remained, finishing up the last of his duties as High General before retiring to his rooms.

"General Yao?" she asked calmly as she stepped fully inside the small room.

"Yes?" Tage called over his shoulder, not looking at her. Then, suddenly, his back stiffened and he stood straight up, recognizing her voice. "What do you want?"

"I wish to remain in Sage-Harmona," Annityn answered coolly, walking over to his side. "I believe that I would be able to offer aid to Lord Cyren as his spymaster. That is a position that is not yet filled."

"Spymaster?" Tage raised an eyebrow, goggling at her. "You?"

She understood that he still did not trust her and, she could admit to herself, that she did not trust him very much either. All the same, Roid had given her a new purpose and she understood that she was now determined to see it work for her.

Everything was changing, Annityn realized, and she would have to adapt.

"Yes, I feel that my abilities as spymaster would aid Cyren the best," she explained and tilted her head to the side, her golden eyes almost warm in the light. "If you will have me, General Yao."

The desk hit her back hard and Annityn did not recognize the new emotion of surprise. Nor did she quite comprehend what she felt when she felt Tage's lips slanting against her own. His arm was underneath her head, acting as a cushion for her fall, tangling in her hair, the other cupping the front of her neck, bringing her face closer.

It was strange and she was not sure what she felt as Tage pressed his body down against hers. It was not unwelcome and she could not compare to what it had felt like to have Hirmoyarbeshi kiss her.

_Perhaps it is because General Yao is younger?_ She thought. All she knew was that Tage seemed to know what he was doing when it came to kissing. There was a low pull at the bottom of her stomach that Annityn thought was the beginning of lust, but she could not be sure. She had never felt 'lust' before.

When she responded, it surprised them both. Tage recognized it, and Annityn categorized it as yet another emotion she was not accustomed to. She leaned up slightly, catching his mouth with hers, pressing their lips fully together and mimicking what he was doing. A scrap of tongue, a clash of teeth, and tiny zings here and there, her fingers encircling the collar of his shirt.

Suddenly, Tage broke away, as if she had physically hurt him. Annityn did not understand his action since she had in way caused him any harm.

But Tage was backing away as Annityn lifted herself off the desk, looking around the papers they had scattered. He shook his head, as if to clear off a wayward thought, and kicked open the door.

"Oh, I'll have you," he told her and was gone, leaving Annityn there.

Neither were sure what exactly he meant.

* * *

**notes** well, yes. I couldn't leave Annityn and Tage hanging, could I? And with all that UST? No way. Of course, they won't get the closure the rest get, but at least it's something right? Their story can only happen _after_ this. Anyway, see you guys in the epilogue.

Hehe. Epilogue. Sounds so funny to say.

**Epilogue:** time to close the final pages of the book

**reviews**

**jaklover123:** lol, yeah. That was my reaction of Light Eco in Jak 3. "Like wasn't this stuff supposed to be rare and hard to find? Where the hell were those Precursors looking exactly?" But, then again, there were a lot of plot holes in Jak 3. Naughty Dog just didn't take their time with it, like they did the other games. Well, that's just my opinion.

**Chantz:** I actually hate writing battles scenes, and I never think I'm any good at them. And I stole the "gentleman's meeting" shamelessly from Pirate of the Caribbean. Hopefully, Aithne's problem was shed some light on and made a little more sense.

**Xazz:** hopefully our omnipresent resident god Lokin answered your questions for you. And you thought he was just going to be annoying and in the way. XD

**ForestWalker:** well, obviously, Roid isn't dead. He was just playin'. I love Light Jak, so I had to through him in. He heals himself and flies. I couldn't not. And poor Aithne, but she's basically just a normal girl since she can't ever really use them without killing herself. XP I think sometimes I'm a bit too cruel to my OCs.

**Carree:** the sad truth is, that's really the cost of war. In fact, you could say this whole story is about the penalties of war (hey, that's it's title right?) I mean, Jak loses Keira and Aithne, Keira loses a husband, Aithne loses a father, Cyren loses his family, Roid loses Rosalyn, Daxter loves his soul and his son, Tess loses her husband and her son, Maelia is never given her family and is denied love, Ryu never measures up to his war-hardened father… the list goes on.

**GundamWingFanatic90: **well, Gareth's definitely dead. Actually, it's surprising. I had pretty much decide that Gareth was going to die in the very first chapter of _Secret Origins_. I knew was going to kill him. I just didn't know when. Hehe. Well, yes, at least they all died for their cause.

**Specter Von Baren:** I know, isn't it great?

**ChatterBox101:** Gareth had to die. I can't really explain it, but he was marked for death from the first time I formed him in my head. And him being a possibly rival for Keira's affections had nothing to do with it, since that was doomed from the start. If you knew how many more people were actually supposed to be dead at the end of this chapter, you'd probably hate me… XD


	27. Epilogue

**Disclaimer:** omg! This is the last time I disclaim Jak and Daxter! OMG!

**Author's Notes:** omg, I have no words. Seriously. The _real_ author's notes is at the bottom, so I'm just gonna say enjoy the epilogue!

**Warnings:** none (unless you count 'the end')

* * *

**Epilogue **

One month later, Aithne found herself in the port. She blinked, almost as if she had never seen it before, and started toward the Naughty Ottsel. The huge mascot had been torn down in the Metal Head attack and she could just about make out Maelia and Ryu's forms as they painted charred walls at the very top of the building.

A rueful smile touched her lips as she started toward them.

Haven City had rolled up its sleeves and gotten to work. Ashelin and Torn had carefully divided their forces into those who would rebuild Haven's walls and those who would focus on the interior of their city.

Jak and Sig reconnected as they brought the Wastelanders back together, which had fallen into disarray after Jak's disappearance. Keira had been placed in charge of reconstructing the racing sector and Aithne had decided the best place for her was with her mother, helping out.

But she couldn't deny that empty feeling that consumed her, even as she worked tirelessly to rebuild what had been lost. She knew what she was feeling, deep down in her breast, and she knew that it would never quite go away.

She would have to deal with it. That was all.

The Port of Haven City had taken the least amount of damage. Water had saved it from the fire and most of the buildings had remained sturdy, locked tight into the ground. The damage taken to the Naughty Ottsel had been the most extensive in the area, the walls destroyed and the mascot brought down.

That was it. There was almost nothing else—save a few pieces of rubble here and there—to hint at the war that had consumed Haven City.

Everything was recovering, rebuilding. But Haven City did not forget its dead. Ashelin had ordered a section of the ground around the palace cleared and countless graves stones had been erected there, in memoriam to those who had died as penalties of war.

Keira had cried then. She had finally allowed herself to slow down and cry over the death of the man whom she had called father. Aithne had lain awake that night and listened to her mother sob in Jak's arms and she had wanted it all to stop.

Samos had died so fast and so suddenly that it had taken them a while to deal with it. Aithne hadn't been able to shed tears over his body, though she had loved her grandfather. Everything inside her was just too bottled up and sore. So she had let Keira do all the crying.

Too much seemed to be happening all at once. Aithne wanted to find some way to get a firm grip and hold everything still so she could deal with it slowly, not all at once. It was slamming into her and she couldn't handle it.

Jak had moved back into their house like he had never left and Aithne knew very well that he had. But Keira had never looked so happy before and Aithne didn't want to say anything that would disrupt that happiness Keira had wrapped herself in.

Aithne had come to the decision some time ago that she would at least try to be civil around Jak. For her mother's sake, and for hers. And—she hated to admit but she did—Jak wasn't as bad as she had painted him once to be.

When she had been younger, Aithne had hated Jak simply for the fact that she and her mother had lived with his ghost in their home. It had been easier for her to picture him as some cold, heartless man who willingly abandoned her and her mother than the hero everyone told her he was.

Now they were all just trying to live again, pick up the pieces that had been destroyed and move on with their lives. Aithne knew just how important starting over was and she was trying hard not to let her past rage get the better of her.

It was hard though.

Just as she reached the Naughty Ottsel, Daxter stepped out. Aithne noted he had changed too. The Daxter she remembered never smiled or at least never seemed to mean it in the way the man who had returned to Haven City did.

The new Daxter raised a jaunty hand in greeting to Aithne as she walked over to him before throwing his back to look at the work Ryu and Maelia were getting done on the Naughty Ottsel.

"Hey you two!" he called, frowning when he saw how little they had gotten accomplished. "Quit smooching and get to painting! And, Ryu, hands off!"

High above him, Maelia broke away from Ryu and blinked down at her father. She looked back up at her boyfriend and rolled her eyes, pushing away the eager hand Ryu had been slipping up her shirt.

Ryu gave a long suffering sigh that had Maelia giggling as they swung easily on the raised rafter to allow them to paint the charred and ruined building and sign.

"Figures he'd decide to act like an overprotective father the one time I don't want him to," she whispered to him, but Ryu could tell by the grin on her face that she enjoying Daxter's love, at long last.

"Sure, sure," he muttered, picking up the paintbrush he had discarded when his mind had become preoccupied with other things.

But Ryu was happy to. He and Torn fought still, but less about Ryu himself and what he wanted for his future, and more because they were both just two men who tended to shout rather than calmly think a problem out.

He grinned. Torn and his son had a tendency to scream and argue right in each other's faces but they also seemed to work it through. Ashelin tended to get put out long before the shouting match was over, but she sat through it so she could put her own two cents in once Ryu and Torn had screamed themselves hoarse.

Torn had reluctantly agreed that Ryu would be best suited for working on a Reconstruction Committee and had quickly retired to his offices to do his business, reorganizing the Krimzon Guard.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?" Maelia demanded, throwing out her best pouting lips that they both knew drove Ryu crazy.

"Nope," he answered as lightly as he could and continued painting, grinning when Maelia huffed out an annoyed breath. "Don't want your father to get mad."

Aithne watched them from down below, feeling a small smile tug her lips. They hadn't seen a lot of each in the month since their return. She supposed it was because they were just different people now.

War had changed them. Changed all them and though Aithne knew they would be friends until their dying day, they were all at different places in their lives now.

Just as she started to go on her away, Maelia took notice of her. She swung her arm out and nearly went tumbling to the ground, expect Ryu clamped a hand on her waist before she fell.

"Aithne!" she called, her voice light and easy on the wind. "Aithne over here!"

All Aithne could do was lift her hand in an acknowledging wave before continuing on. Maelia bit her lip and looked at Ryu, her eyes big and sad.

"She misses Cyren," she told her boyfriend and Ryu nodded his head in agreement.

It was true and they all knew it. Everyone was careful not to mention Cyren's name, or anything connecting to him, around her. Aithne tried to keep her mind busy with other things, and she succeeded most of the time. So much needed to be done and accomplished that there wasn't time for mourning.

But Aithne dreaded the day when she had nothing to do.

Suddenly she was standing at Zen-Fai Yao's shooting gallery. The rubble that had closed it off at Haven City's falling had been cleared away and Zen-Fai's body had been one of the few they were able to bury.

Cyren hadn't come to the funerals. He had sent a letter, written by someone else, to Ashelin. Nothing for Aithne came.

Unable to stop herself, Aithne stepped in. The mats were discolored and fading but they were still soft beneath her feet. It was hard to remember what it had been like to train here under a secret general's tutelage, but she could easily remember the warmth and acceptance she had found.

Here was the place where she had lost her heart without ever really knowing it. She wondered if she could pinpoint a specific moment in time when she had fallen in love, but she couldn't. It had happened without her noticing at all.

Wearily, Aithne lowered herself to the ground and closed her eyes, inhaling the smells that still lingered on, despite the death that had come on swift wings to this very spot. It was a comforting thought, that something as simple as a smell could linger on.

She tried to remember what it felt like to stretch out beside Cyren on the soft mats, when they had been young and innocent and there had been no secrets or wars. When she had merely been Aithne Hagai and he had been Cyren.

And she nearly wept when she couldn't.

--&--

"I thought that Aithne was supposed to be helping you with this," Jak said as he grabbed the opposite edge of the large piece of metallic rubble Keira was struggled under.

The Racing Sector was a mess and it would be a mess for a very long time. But Keira had brought together the people that lived there—from racer to regular civilian—to pitch in and the work was starting to get done.

Keira lifted her head and offered him a sad look. "I sent her off. Her heart just wasn't in it."

Jak could only nod, frowning. Yes, he knew as well as Keira that Aithne's heart wasn't in anything she did. She walked around Haven City like a ghost. He wished to comfort his daughter, desperately, but Jak knew that was a line he and Aithne had yet to cross.

They were civil to each other and Jak told himself he was happy with that. It was more than he had expected Aithne would give him. She said nothing when he moved back into his home, said nothing when he and Keira attempted to fix their relationship, said nothing when they crossed each other's paths in the morning, she coming out of her room and he coming out of Keira's.

But he was a selfish man and he wanted more. He just knew that he wasn't going to get it.

"I want Aithne to be happy," Keira whispered, fighting back tears. "But it breaks my heart to think that she'll only be happy if she's miles away in Sage-Harmona."

Wordlessly, they both set down the scrap metal and Jak held out his arms. Keira went right into them, burying her face against his chest. She was shaking badly but she wasn't crying. Jak stroked the top of her hair, murmuring to her, trying to quell his own aching heart.

He led her away from the destruction of the racing sector and out toward the farming district of Haven City. Though much of it had been destroyed, green grass still grew and it made a peaceful picture, healthy foliage with wind rippling through it.

It was nice to rest here, to get away from all the rubble and ruin that had become Haven City. Jak settled on the grass and Keira laid out beside him, holding his hand as they looked up at the blue sky.

"I want Aithne to stay in Haven City," Jak said after a long moment of silence. He looked at his palm, ignoring the hideous scars that would forever mark him, the silvery mark having faded long ago into his skin, as if it hadn't ever been there, as if he hadn't lost seventeen years of his life to it. "But I'm selfish."

"You're not selfish, Jak," Keira said softly, her eyes still moist. "You're not selfish at all."

Unable to stop himself, he turned his head and looked at her. They were trying, him and Keira. Jak knew that they could never get back what they had had before, but they were rebuilding. They were going somewhere again.

Neither of them could pretend the last seventeen years hadn't happened, but they were together and it was almost enough. Jak knew he had to be content with what he got. Just as Haven City rebuilt itself he would rebuild his relationship with Keira.

As long as Keira was willing to work at it, so was Jak.

"I want her to be happy too," Jak told Keira, turning his gaze back to the sky, closing his eyes and imaging what Aithne would have looked like as a baby. "But I—I can't help but feel like I've been cheated out of a lifetime."

She rolled over and tucked her head onto his shoulder, her hand wrapping around his waist. The feeling of her body pressed close to him relaxed Jak and, even as some secret part of him ached, he knew that it would be alright.

"If she decides to go you'll let her, won't you?" Keira asked softly, tilting her head to look up at his strong chin.

"Yes," Jak answered and felt his stomach clench because it was the truth. If Aithne decided to chase after Cyren, he wouldn't stand in her way.

"That's why you're a good man," Keira told him softly and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep against him.

Jak lifted to hand to her hair, and hesitated as he saw his crisscrossing burn scars. The doctors had said they were permanent, that they would forever decorate his neck and leg and hands. These browning, hideous marks of his bravery.

It only bothered Jak sometimes, but it had been enough to make him feel sick in the beginning.

With a sigh of his own, he finally placed his hand on Keira's head, refusing to let necessary scars bother him.

--&--

Aithne woke up that night, curled under her covers and shivering. The house she lived in no longer felt like a home. She was curled into a tight ball, her lips pressed together in worry, shaking so hard she wondered how the whole house didn't feel it.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, feeling the moisture on her cheeks. The room was dark and she felt like she was suffocating. Her throat was dry and tight. She sucked in a wheezing breath and could do no more than stare blankly out into the nothingness.

Her whole body felt like it was made of tears. She just wanted to sob and cry and never, ever stop because she had lost everything that had ever mattered to her and she wasn't ever going to be able to get it back.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks and Aithne pressed her face into her pillow, waiting for her tears to exhaust her into sleep.

Then she stopped, gasping and jerking herself right up into the bed.

_Cry until I go to sleep?_ It was too much like Keira had done during Aithne's entire life. Keira had cried herself to sleep every night because she couldn't be with the man she loved. Was Aithne following her example? Was she doing the same thing?

The thought was too much to bear and Aithne curled her knees to her chest, sucking in a rough breath.

Just like Keira? Was that even possible?

For a long time, Aithne stared out into the darkness, unable to do anything but stare.

When the sun rose, Aithne pulled on her clothes as quickly as she could and slipped out of the house, careful not to disturb Jak or Keira. She considered calling Sig for a moment and asking if it was alright if she hung out with him. But Sig deserved the rest. He was working hard, they all were.

So she wandered around Haven City, watching as people worked to rebuild what had been taken from them. She thought that she should have offered to help but she felt so out of place among it all that she couldn't.

It was mid afternoon when she walked into the Naughty Ottsel. Maelia and Ryu were arguing over something for the sake of arguing, Maelia leaning over the counter of the bar, her face pink with rage, Ryu with his palms firmly planted on either side of the bar, his eyes narrowed.

"For the last time Ryutaro Praxis I will not—"

"Oh yes you will, Maelia Ottsel! And don't even start arguing. I get dragged all over the place so you can show me off," Ryu snapped, gnashing his teeth together. "So you are going over to that asshole's house and telling him that you're my girl now!"

"He already knows!" she snarled.

"Yeah? Then why was he over here yesterday pawing you!?"

"Pawing? Sloane's my friend and you can't tell me who I will and who I won't see!" Maelia glared at him and kept on glaring, even as Ryu reached out and cupped the back of her neck, bringing her face closer to his.

"Wanna bet?" he demanded and looked about ready to prove it to her.

"It's good to see some things won't change," Aithne announced as she stepped towards them, her voice jolting Maelia and Ryu guilty apart. Aithne resisted the urge to snicker, well aware that they were on their way to doing something a little better than arguing.

"Oh, ah, hi, Aithne," Maelia said with a sheepish grin, her face turning an even pinker color. "You want something to drink?"

Ryu, looking smug, merely lifted his head at her and reclined easily against the bar's table. Aithne approached and shook her head, suddenly embracing Ryu.

The young man gave a small choke of surprise but wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Aithne held him tight for a moment, memorizing Ryu's feel, and then let him go. She walked around the side of the bar and did the same thing for Maelia.

"What's going on?" Maelia demanded as Aithne pulled away. Her eyes were wide and concerned. "Aithne?"

She said nothing, just stared at Maelia with sad eyes and a weak smile. Maelia sighed and lowered her head quickly for a moment, understanding what her best friend must have decided to do.

"You're going after Cyren," she surmised, gripping Aithne's hands hard.

"I have to," she answered. "I'd rather regret something I did do than something I didn't."

"Just be careful, okay?" Ryu told her gently, not moving to hug her because he understood that she needed to do this on her own. "I don't want you to get hurt, Aithne."

"You've always been the best brother, Ryu," she said as she headed to the door. "Bye you guys."

--&--

Night had settled once more as Aithne slipped down stairs. She had a small rucksack thrown over her shoulder, full of supplies like water and food, and a few changes of clothes. She was pretty confident she knew the way to Sage-Harmona from Haven City but she had to be on the safe side.

It would take her a few days.

As she stepped into the kitchen she paused and blinked in surprise, her mouth falling open.

Keira was sitting at the table, her hands neatly folded and her eyes sad. Aithne took in a deep breath and approached her. She had planned on saying goodbye to her mother, but she hadn't actually counted on doing it face-to-face.

"So you're going," Keira guessed and managed a small smile. "I knew you would."

"I can't spend my whole life regretting," Aithne admitted as she came around to Keira's side. "Mom, I need to go. I don't know how good I'll be for Cyren or Sage-Harmona, but I can't spend my whole life wondering if I made the right choice."

"I know." Keira wrapped her arms around her waist and brought her down beside her. She pressed a shaky kiss to her cheek. "That's why I'm not stopping you. You need to go. You _have_ to go."

They embraced and Aithne prayed it wouldn't be for the last time. She had no idea what the future now held for her, but she knew that she would accept it as long as she could be with Cyren.

"Just because you're going to be so far away," Keira said, fighting back a set of tears. "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop being a nagging mother."

"I know." Knowing that she had to leave now or she would never leave, she stood. "Goodbye, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, Aithne," Keira answered with a watery smile. "Go get him."

Keira watched as Aithne slipped into the hallway and out the door. She sucked in a deep breath and held refused to cry until she was sure Aithne could no longer hear her.

When Aithne was gone, Keira lowered her head to her table and wept.

Unable to hear her mother's tears, Aithne shut the door to her home one last time. She knew that she would not be returning soon, if she ever returned, and it filled her with dread and purpose.

It was time to start her new life and she was ready for it, even if it meant she was leaving so much of what she knew behind.

"Leaving?" Jak asked, arms crossed over his chest, head bowed down, reclining easily against the front wall of their small home.

Aithne didn't jump. She wanted to, but she didn't. Slowly she turned around and faced the man whom she had only just recently come to accept was her father. She hunched her shoulders defensively and glanced over at him.

"I was going to tell you," she snapped, surprised to find it true. "I wasn't going to leave without telling you."

Jak nodded, knowing it was true. He uncrossed his arms and stepped a little closer to her. This, he knew, was all he was going to get and he was going to have to accept it.

"Come visit your mother every now and then, okay?" Jak asked gently, wishing he could say so much more and knowing that he couldn't. Aithne wasn't ready for it and she might very well never be.

"I will." Aithne took in a deep breath, knowing very well that she was crossing a line she had never thought she'd cross. "Mom can come and visit me in Sage-Harmona whenever she wants to an—and you can come to."

He nodded, quietly accepting that.

"I guess I'll—I'll see you around, Jak," Aithne said and, hiking her rucksack higher onto her shoulder, she started to head toward the exit of Haven City. But she paused and turned back to look at Jak, who was watching her go. "Look after Mom for me, okay?"

There was a hint of smile on his mouth as he nodded once more. "Don't worry about it, Aithne," he told her and motioned for her to get going. Aithne gave him a sharp nod and obeyed.

She walked away feeling as if she was losing something she never really had.

--&--

It took Aithne close to three days to reach Sage-Harmona. She saw not a soul and without Maelia and Ryu and Roid and Cyren with her she was aware how lonely traveling could be when one was alone.

The journey gave her a new perspective on Jak's seventeen year absence in her life. She wouldn't say anything to him, but the three, long days of endless emptiness made her understand him better.

Night had settled when Sage-Harmona finally came into her view. Aithne felt a tired grin cross her face as she stared up at the high walls of the city that had once upon a time been her greatest enemy.

Now it symbolized her new home.

But she couldn't make herself take the last few yards to Sage-Harmona. It was cold and dark and she was just too tired from her journey. She settled down in the sand, a small blanket acting as a shield against the wind and went to sleep.

Her body told her she had gotten no more than two hours of sleep when she felt a hand touching her shoulder lightly. There was a murmur in her ear but she couldn't hear it over the wind that wiped in the desert at night.

"Aithne," the voice murmured. "Lord Cyren will want to see you now."

Gasping, she snapped awake, throwing the blanket away from her. Annityn was crouched by her side, one pale hand on her shoulder, and looking calmly into her eyes. Tage was just behind her, watching them both.

"Annityn? What are you doing here?" She held out her hand and Annityn pulled her to her feet. "I thought—I thought you were free from Venn's spell."

"I have chosen to remain and aid Lord Cyren as spymaster," Annityn answered neutrally and bent down to retrieve the things Aithne had placed in the sand.

"C'mon, it's cold out," Tage told them and handed Aithne a cloak. She thankfully throw it over her shoulders as he said, "You're lucky we saw when we did. It's supposed to go below zero tonight."

"Tage?" Aithne asked softly, approaching him. "How is he?"

"Lonely," was all Tage said and his eyes slid over Aithne's shoulder to watch as Annityn approach.

"These are yours," Annityn said suddenly, pulling Aithne's sais out from the holsters on her thighs. She turned them over to Aithne without a moment's hesitation.

Wordlessly, Aithne took them from her and cradled them against her chest. It brought back painful memories. Zen-Fai giving them to her, fighting Cyren with them, Roid taking them from her…

"Where did you get these?" she asked whisper soft.

"I acquired them after I inspected the ashes of the Phoenix," Annityn explained and her eyes were so emotionless that Aithne could not tell if the young girl was lying or not. It was just too hard to read her.

She could only bite her lip and nod. Annityn turned toward Tage and Aithne followed without hesitation. They led her right into Sage-Harmona and up into the palace. Aithne was suddenly glad for them because she realized just how completely lost she would be in the place.

Sage-Harmona was so vastly huge that it was a wonder that anyone could memorize it in a lifetime. Yet Tage and Annityn seemed to know the palace like the back of their hands and they were in front of Cyren's door within moments.

Aithne sucked in a deep breath, staring at the deep wood of the closed door. Her heart was pounding wildly in her ears and for a moment she nearly ran away.

But this was _Cyren_. And this was what she wanted.

"He's probably asleep," Tage told her gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and giving her a small smile. "But I don't think he'd mind if you woke him up."

"Thank you," she said and meant it. She glanced at them over her shoulders and realized that she was relieved that they would be another constant in her new life. She could trust both Tage Yao and Annityn.

"No problem. Sage-Harmona has gone too long without a Queen Consort," Tage said on a sharper grin. He glanced at Annityn. "Let's go."

For a moment Aithne stared at the pair of them, blinking in surprise. There seemed to be something between them… something in the way Tage meet Annityn's eyes. Well, it was impossible to read Annityn but Tage…

Shaking her head, knowing she was just imaging things, Aithne pushed open Cyren's door and slipped inside. She gave herself a moment to adjust to the darkness and the new room before starting forward to the bed.

The bed was in the center of the room and the darkness of the night blocked off her vision to the rest of it. A small fire crackled in the fireplace, giving the room an eerie orange tint.

But Aithne didn't take in any of it. She was staring straight ahead, gasping for breath.

Because Cyren wasn't asleep like Tage had said. He was up and looking at her, his face paling. He stood just beside the fire, the flames highlighting his silvery hair.

"Oh Goddess," he murmured, lowering his head into his hand, his shoulders shaking. "Now I'm hallucinating."

If her heart hadn't been pounding so loudly in her breast, Aithne would have laughed. "I don't think so," she told him softly, approaching him on shaking legs.

"Aithne?" he breathed, lifted a hand shaking to her neck when she was in grabbing distance. "Aithne?"

She nodded, could only nod, and wrapped herself up close. Cyren's arms encircled her waist fiercely, as if he was afraid she'd disappear, and she could feel his body shaking just as hers did.

Wordlessly, she lifted her head to his and claimed his mouth.

It felt like coming home at last.

--&--

No more than a week after Aithne's departure the letter arrived. Keira had been at the racing section, going over the very beginnings of the reconstruction of the stadium, and had returned home to find it on her doorstep.

Knowing who it was from, and what it was about, she waited for Jak to get home and then handed it over to him.

Jak ripped the Yoshimoro seal right off without any hesitation and pulled out the slim, proper invitation that Annityn had likely seen to. It was impersonal and probably had been sent out to many other people in perfect replication.

"We're invited," Jak read aloud, his eyes sliding over to Keira's for a moment. "To the royal wedding of Cyren Yoshimoro of Sage-Harmona and Aithne Hagai of Haven City, where the naming of Lord King and Queen Consort shall take place."

"She invited you," Keira pointed out, taking the envelope from him. "It—it's something, Jak."

"I know," he replied but kept on frowning.

"Oh!" Keira yelped and pulled out another slip of paper. This one was obviously writing paper and something much more personal than what Sage-Harmona had sent out as invitations. "It's for you."

With a strange smile she handed the letter addressed to her husband and read over his shoulder. Wetness blinded her vision for a moment and Keira had to blink it aside. She bit her lip and looked over at Jak.

Her smile widening, Keira placed her hand over Jak's on the letter, watching it shake, rubbing the pucker, and forever charred, skin.

It was a small one sentence letter but somehow it had Jak shaking from head to toe. Keira sighed and pressed her head onto his shoulder, smiling softly.

The letter read simply: _will you give me away?_

--&--

"Humans are so strange," Lokin observed from his viewing pool.

He reclined on a large rock sticking rather oddly out in the middle of a huge, vast lake. A tree, large and powerful and beautifully green, grew in the middle of the lake, making a tiny island, and above Lokin's head the stars were nearly close enough to touch.

"And yet you favor them, Lokin," his sister pointed out. Morrigan was on the tiny island, weaving a shroud, her dark hair like a curtain over her face. "Perhaps it is you who is strange."

"Very likely, baby sister," he agreed and then laughed out loud. "Ah, but I do so enjoy these humans of ours."

"Hardly ours now, don't you agree?" a young woman asked as she appeared from thin air. She wore tight fitting leggings and a tunic, a bow strapped over her shoulder, her blonde hair skimming her bottom.

"Now, now, Dianadina," Lokin chastised, wiggling his finger in front of her face as she stepped into the pool. "No need to take that tone with me."

The young goddess approached her brother, reclining her jaunty elbow on the flat stone so she could lean in and see what had Lokin so enraptured.

When all she saw was Jak Mar embracing Keira Hagai she raised an eyebrow at her brother. Lokin was not usually so amazed by the petty humans they watched over.

"Well," Lokin answered her unspoken statement with a shrug. "He's an interesting guy, don't you think? Too bad you didn't get to meet him."

"We cannot leave this place again. You have depleted too much of our power," Morrigan pointed out coldly, flicking her wrist and sending the shroud rippling like water.

"Yeah, yeah. Doesn't mean I can't watch, does it?"

Morrigan fell silent and Dianadina rolled her eyes. As Morrigan settled back down to her weaving, Dianadina abandoned them in favor of playing with an animal she conjured up.

Lokin kept looking at the image he had summoned up from the viewing pool. With a half smile he poked it with one, slim finger. The image became garbled with the movement and rippled. A second later it was completely gone.

"Have a nice life, Jak," Lokin told him and went to go pester Dianadina for fun.

"Indeed," Morrigan agreed, shifting her shroud once more. She stroked one finger down a glowing red spot of the shroud, one she had just recently sowed in. The bird-shape seemed to screech out at her, and just above it were countless threads in many different colors. She paid them all an affectionate stroke.

The goddess of death, dark of hair and eyes and pale of skin, glanced over at the image Lokin had ruined and then gave a rueful smile, carefully plucking out a thread in her shroud that was a combination of black and white. She tossed it into the water where it disappeared as if she had never created it.

_Sleep well, Jak. You've done your part,_ she thought to herself, looking over as Lokin and Dianadina started screaming at each other. _Heroes deserve their rest. And what peace we can afford them._

Then she went back to sewing.

**THE END

* * *

**

**Notes:** please, allow me a moment of silence. Seriously, guys, this story has been virtually my baby for the last three years (nearly four continuing the prequel _Secret Origins_). I never really expected to get this involved, or to create a world this out of proportion to Jak's real world. But this ended up being something that had to be written. Jak and others simply wouldn't let me alone. XD And this story, and you guys, helped me grow so much as an author. It's thanks to you and your support that helped to grew.

Special thanks to everyone who's been with me since the beginning, and anyone who followed after. Without your reviews, your need to _know_, I wouldn't have finished this. There were just so many times when this story circled around to dead ends and delays, that I thought it be easier just to give up, but you guys seriously kept me going.

Also, a special thank you to Specter Von Baron. Because without you, man, all this you see now? Wouldn't have happened. You took a lame-ass sequel and transformed it into an epic. Honestly. My baby is your baby.

Now, I could go on and on about how this story evolved, but I'm sure you guys don't care about any of this. So, catch you guys on the flip side!

**reviews**

**ForestWalker:** lol, seriously. It's like, "Geez, precursors, how to manage to piss so many people off while being bite-sized rodents?" Gareth was a necessary, in fact, he was pretty much marked for dead since the prequel. I just didn't get around killing him to the end. XD

**Light-Eco-Sage:** and here it is!

**Xazz:** Tage and Annityn are my favorite couple in this story. No joke. But that might be because I know what happens to them after this over. XP I may or may not do little one-shots for them some time in the future.

**Carree:** it doesn't sound cruel at all. I actually have an older draft of the Act 26 where Aithne dies, Cyren loses an eye, Annityn dies, Torn dies, Ryu loses his left ear, Venn dies, and Sig is paralyzed. And that was the actually working chapter up until the week before I posted it. But in the end, the story is more about the greater good, the sacrifice the few for the good of the many. It seems less profound and hitting (I feel) when so many people die at once. Plus, I sent these characters through the ringer so many times, it just didn't seem fair to make them loss so much at the finish line. The body count is actually pretty high. We lost Cyren's parents (Quinn and Ginyrina), Lee, Zen-Fai, Samos, Rosalyn, Gareth, and Kiff Fire. And, of course, that didn't mean everyone got away scot either. Jak's permanently scarred, Nik will never walk straight again, Torn will always have a limp, Daxter and Tess will never have a real stable relationship with Maelia, and who knows if Jak and Keira will ever get back to the way they were. I always like to my stories on a high note, so I kept the deaths in the last chapter low, but… oh, wow, know _I_ don't know I'm talking about. XD

**Chantz:** it is so sad to see this thing end. I'm glad I managed to keep this thing sane, for the most part, because there was a _lot_ of plot to get through, and a lot of characters. Whew.

**GundamWingFanatic90:** hehe. I'm going to take that as a good thing.

**Chatterbox101:** go ahead and ship! It's the best part of life. My favorite scene is probably Lokin's appearance, too. We need some to give an exposition, no? And, of course, people got their happy endings. Like I'd do that to them (I'm mean, but not that mean).

**jaklover123:** no, I wanted everyone to have as happy an ending as they could. XD That's just how I roll. Writing a war is tough, because so much has to happen, but I come from a family of Vietnam veterans, so I kinda of grasp the concept of it. But it's impossible to understand a war, unless you've lived a war. And you should totally write your fic. The only way to get good is practice, practice, practice! Take it from someone who knows:D


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